The Mentors
by glb-03
Summary: The Thirtieth Hunger Games through the eyes of the the Victors chosen to mentor as they try to give their tributes a shot at life. "The first rule of being a Victor; stick up for other Victors. You might hate them, and they might be despicable human beings, but they're the only ones in this world who have a chance of understanding."
1. That's Not Good

**The Mentors**

_**Chapter One**_

_Aurora Fairchild (D11)_

I lay in the tallest tree that I have found so far in the Arena. I wonder how many tributes are left after I killed the District Twelve boy today. He was young and I was barely able to do it. At the very least, I made it quick. The Careers woulds have tortured him to the brink of insanity if they found him instead.

I sit up in my tree sniffing wildly. Smoke.

I climb down and find my pack, camouflaged near the stream. I don't need it much, since I have only crackers left and no weapons to catch food with. I quickly fill my canteen with water, fearful that if I leave the stream I won't find any more water for a while. I grab my pack and begin to walk briskly. The air is stifling and wild animals run by me suddenly. Fear begins to creep into my mind, can I actually outrun the Gamemakers' forest fire? I begin to jog, trying not to use up all of my energy. The crack of someone stepping on a twig startles me into an abrupt stop.

The girl from District 3 steps out of the bushes and grips a small dagger in her hand. I grab the closest thing to me, which ends up being a stray stick. I stare at it for a second, mentally face palming. "Don't come any closer."

She laughs cruelly and moves faster than I expected. I hit her on the head and dodge her dagger.

I know I'm in possibly the worst situation I could be in. My only chance is that she doesn't know the fire is moving ever closer. I begin to inch away and she laughs as she lunges after me.

A deer suddenly runs through us, running her over. I grab a small, sharp rock and stab her repeatedly with it. Her cannon booms and I hurriedly grab my pack. I can see the flames now and begin to run away. I suddenly stop, turning back around.

The girl from Three had a dagger, and I know all too well being weaponless in the Games is a death sentence. I run back and grab it from her hand trying not to look at her bloody body. A flaming cinder hits me right under my eye. I scream in pain and begin to run while my face burns. Burning, and burning, and burning . . .

I sit up, a scream escaping my lips. I clamp a hand over my mouth, trying to muffle the persistent screams that are not in my control. The nightmares still haunt me, though I'm always searching for a way to make them cease.

I climb out of bed, sweat pouring down my face. I drag my hand across my forehead and stumble to the bathroom. The shower I take clears my mind and helps the aching in my back.

After I'm done, I walk back into my luxurious room and check my calendar. I sigh; the reaping day is upon the Districts again. I dry my hair, another luxury that the Capitol supplies Victors, and dress in a plain blue dress. It was mine before the Games; I try to wear it whenever I can. To remind me that I'm still the same person I was before, despite being scarred.

I slip on a pair of shoes that my mother wore for years before she passed them onto me. This was the outfit I wore when I was reaped. I haven't changed a bit, other than the burn marring my cheek. I look in the mirror and see cocoa skin, big brown eyes, curly brown hair, and a curvy figure. Same as ever.

I walk down the stairs slowly and skip breakfast, since I always feel nauseous at reapings. I walk through town and people eye me warily; even now they don't trust me. It's sad, they still think I'll kill them and know for a fact I won't bring their children home.

The district square is _huge,_ though not large enough to hold District Eleven's immense population. There are pre-reapings.

The District is split into four zones. They draw a hundred kids' names from each zone and their the ones eligible to go into the Hunger Games. I was eighteen the first time I went to the Second Reaping and, sure enough, I was chosen that year.

I survey the square and notice that people are already starting to show up. I must have woken up later than I thought. Someone taps me on the shoulder and I turn to see this years escort. She must be a newbie, because she comes up to speak with me. Most know not to bother Victors. Her bubble gum pink bob and pickle green eyes make me dislike her immediately.

"Are you Aurora Fairchild?" she asks in her ridiculous Capitol accent. I nod and she grins. "You're _so_ much cuter than I expected!"

"Thanks," I reply dryly, though I know not to. Capitolites usually don't pick up on sarcasm.

"You are _welcome_!" she squeals. "Your dress is . . . a little _dated_, though; can't you afford better?"

I grimace at her tone. "I can, of course, but I like this one. Wearing my old dresses remind me of the simpler days."

"Oh." She smiles, but walks away without another word.

I sit in the little, uncomfortable chair that they provide me. It's on the stage so I can see all the children's faces that are walking into the square. The twelve year old section is, thankfully, not as full as usual. Perhaps the little ones will be spared this year. My fellow victor, Locust, walks onto the stage and sits in the chair beside me.

He smiles grimly. "There's no other day like the reaping day."

"Which I am thankful for," I say, rolling my eyes at him.

Our mayor, Rye Temps, walks onto stage. He looks obese, as usual. He is so large that it's a miracle he can fit through doors anymore. The pig.

He introduces himself and begins the story of the Dark Days. Blah, blah, blah. I've heard that speech so many times, it hurts my ears. He announces Locust and I, we surprisingly garner a nice applause. He then introduces our escort and I finally get her name. Fluffy.

I laugh quietly, like so many in the crowd.

She commences to babble about how excited she is to be our escort and Locust has to throw a rock at her before she'll shut up and get on with the reaping. She goes to the girls' ball and I feel as nervous as I'm sure some of those kids who are eligible do. Over fifteen, over fifteen, over fifteen . . .

"Calliope McKay!" Fluffy squeals. A thirteen-year old begins to walk forward, tears pouring down her face, shaking like a leaf. She has dark skin and hair, but her eyes are a dazzling blue. She's so young, too young.

"I volunteer!" a girl yells from the crowd. Wait, what? Someone actually volunteered? This might be the first time, like, ever.

I thought she might be a sister, but she looks nothing like the little girl. As she gets closer, I start to recognize her.

Laurel Farley. She is one of the rich few that live in our district. Her father is a very . . . cautious man. He paid Locust to train her just in case she was reaped. I guess that backfired. I turn to look at her trainer, wondering if he knew of her intentions. I rear back in surprise when I see his hands shaking.

I turn away, trying to act as though I didn't see his trembling. Laurel's blonde hair is up in a messy ponytail and her eyes flash in defiance. It will be quickly put out.

"Excellent!" Fluffy squeals, which I think is the only noise she can make, though she looks unhappy. I brush it off, escorts are always a bit on the weird side.

She begins her walk to the boy's ball and I am just as nervous as before. "Zale McKay!"

I grimace at what I now understand to be a setup. The Capitol wanted a brother and sister in the Games. Zale is older to, coming from the back of the crowd. As he walks forward, I can see some resemblance in him and his sister's faces, but they don't look alike.

He does not have his sister's chocolate skin, he only looks very tan. The only resemblance are their eyes, a piercing blue. Laurel and Zale shake hands, Zale giving Laurel a grateful expression. She nods back in response. Locust and I stand, walking over to shake both tributes' hands. I know Locust wants to yell at Laurel right there, but he is able to restrain himself, and only glares at her fiercely. She can only look sheepish in return.

Locust turns to me after the reaping is deemed over and the newest tributes taken away. "Take care of them, 'Rora."

I know he doesn't mean _them, _he means _her_. "I'll do my best."

He nods and then walks away, quickly going in the direction of the Justice Building. He is already more of Laurel's mentor than I will ever be, even if he won't be in the Capitol this year.

I say goodbye to my mother with a quick conversation that only makes me depressed, before I begin the trek to the train. I pull myself onto the train and sit on one of the soft couches. W-Wait a second. Laurel volunteered for Zale's sister . . . meaning he'll be indebted to her in the arena.

Well, that's not good.


	2. World of Excitement

**The Mentors**

**_Chapter Two_**

_Dara Valentine (D4)_

Life is good when you're a Victor. It's even better when you're beautiful and loved by the Capitol. I hear all those other Victor's whine about how they have _bad dreams_, but I never do. All I can say to them is, "Sorry. Life is a _bitch_ sometimes, isn't it?"

Then they glare at me until I slink away in my sexy, lioness way. Pulling myself out of my thoughts, I finish curling my hair and spritz it with an anti-frizz serum. Hey, I've got to keep up appearances. I live near the beach, meaning humidity, meaning frizz, meaning me as an unhappy camper. I expertly apply my makeup before walking back into my bedroom.

I grin at the blond man laying in my bed. He's gorgeous, of course, I only sleep with the best of the best. I gently shake him and whisper, "Kai?"

"Oh, good morning, Dara," he says with a sexy smile, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He pulls me onto the bed and kisses me deeply. "I can't believe you're leaving me, baby."

"Capitol orders," I say, wiggling out of his gentle grasp. I walk over to the closet and flick through the different items. I finally ask Kai for his opinion and he, without hesitation, picks the dark green dress that he knows matches my eyes. I pull it on hurriedly and feel Kai's eyes burning a hole in my back.

"What?" I say, turning back to look at him.

"You are so beautiful," he says with an awed expression. I smile and turn away from him, blushing furiously. He climbs out of bed and pulls on his clothes from last night. "Why can't I just get a drawer?"

"Because if I give _you _a drawer, I'd have to give every guy I have sex with frequently one, too," I tease with a smile.

He scowls, before quickly turning away. I wrap my arms around him and kiss his neck, "But if you _really _want one, I guess you can."

He turns back to me and smiles. "I have to go. I love you."

"I love you, too." He kisses me once and then leaves. I should have known we were more than casual lovers when we started saying we loved each other, but I disregarded that, of course. What really tipped me off was when I started saying no to people who offered sex. Dear Panem, that _never_ happens. Kai and I are pretty much in an exclusive relationship, we just haven't spoken about it.

I haven't been thinking about it much, the excitement of being in the Capitol again has consumed most of my thoughts for the past few days.

I go down the stairs and see that my housekeeper, Helena, is already cooking me breakfast. She's mostly does all the jobs a mother might do except, well, I pay her for it. I think of Helena as my mother sometimes, and I hope she thinks of me in the same way. I have a much better relationship with the woman than my own mother.

"Thanks, Helena," I say as she slides my breakfast towards me. I eat my eggs in a comfortable silence as she washes dishes that Kai and I used for our late night snacks. After I'm finished, she scoops up my plate to wash it along with the others. "You're on vacation for however long I'm gone, you know."

"I figured."

I smile at the sarcasm in her voice. "I have to go, Helena. The Capitol is calling out my name."

"Don't seem so excited," she replies grimly.

I barely acknowledge that she spoke as I walk out of the door and to the town square. My District's other three victors are already seated and I take my place beside them. Clam smiles at me; he feels sorry for me, apparently. I'm sure he thinks I'm lying when I say I don't have nightmares, while the other two just despise me because they're envious.

Our mayor walks up to the stage and does his usual speech- which he does quite well, if I may add. Our usual escort, Marya, bounces onto the stage.

A girl named Pearl Moon is chosen. She is only thirteen, but looks strong enough. I don't think she'll win, though, even if she's a Career. She's too young at this point.

The reaped boy's name is Barnacle Greene and he is sixteen, but looks like a fucking weakling. I think the girl has a better chance than him and he's twice her size! The reaping ends and I begin the walk to the train.

"Dara!" a familiar voice calls.

"What do you want, Kai?" I snap. When he doesn't answer I glare, and let out a groan. "Spit it out, you're going to make me late for the train!"

"That's the plan," he says with a carefree grin.

I let out a disbelieving breath and turn to walk away. "Whatever. Bye."

"Hey, wait up, I didn't get to ask what I wanted to!" he exclaims. He chases after me, but every time he grabs my arm to get my attention, I shrug him off.

Finally he stops and yells, "Will you marry me?"

What the..? Is he fucking serious right now? "What?"

He runs to me and sinks down onto one knee. "Will you marry me, Dara Rose Valentine?"

I can't breath. I can't think. My mind is a mess as I try to process what Kai is doing. We're not even officially _dating_, for Panem's sake! Through my tangled web of thoughts, I make out a person yelling at me. I look over my shoulder to see a Peacekeeper. Damn it, I must be late for the train. I pull my hand out of Kai's grasp and begin to walk along with the Peacekepper, ignoring the man's bitching.

I can feel Kai's disappointment radiating, and he yells. "What is that supposed to mean?"

I look back for a second and make a split-second decision. "It means yes." I climb onto the train and sink into a plush chair and daydream about my extravagant wedding that I'll be having soon. Oh, it's good to be me . . .

My tributes pull me out of my reverie, and the world of excitement I'll be living in for the next few weeks _officially begins_.


	3. Blank

**The Mentors**

**_Chapter Three_**

_Dexter Kane (D3)_

"Honey, don't be like this," my wife pleads but I don't react. I never react. I used to be better. Not now. I can't think without feeling pain. So I am blank. I choose to be blank.

A year ago Emerald, my best friend's daugther, was reaped. She died in the bloodbath and the look Connie, my best friend, gave me when she saw me again was a look of pure hatred. I was fine for a while, but eight months ago, when my wife announced she was pregnant it was the end.

"Look at me, Dexter." I raise my face to her vividly angry one. "You never talk to me anymore, not since I told you we're having a baby. Why, Dexter? Do you not want a child with me?" She is growing hysterical and I finally give in and intervene.

"I don't want a child, Diana, it has nothing to do with you."

She is silent for a long time. I revel in it. I never have complete silence. "You don't want our baby?"

I am silent for a few minutes, but I eventually say with finality, "No."

"Well then," she says, fury evident in her brown eyes and tone of voice. "I'll leave."

"You can't take care of a child by yourself, Diana." I frown. "We both know that." And I won't let you raise our child by yourself even if I don't want it_. _Dear Panem, I'm so bitter now. I used to never think this way, feel this way.

She is suddenly screaming obscenities at me. I look at her blankly and she begins to beat her fists on my chest. I grab her hands and hug her to my chest. She screams in my ear that she's going to leave me and raise the baby by herself and she's going to be _good_ at it.

I sigh. "Just don't leave, Di. We can talk about this in the morning."

"You never want to talk, though, I have to practically force you!" She sits down at the edge of our bed. "Things have got to change, Dex. Or I'll be forced to leave you."

"Okay." I lay down in our bed gently and feel her shocked stare on my back.

She sighs and lays down beside me. "Good night."

I don't respond. I just lay in bed, wondering what poor kid will be reaped tomorrow. Many faces flash through my mind. Cal, my eighteen-year old nephew. Little Anne who I pay to bring us fruit. Daniel, Sapphire, Blake, Frida, Mary Lou. I push the rapidly changing faces from my mind. It's not good to dwell on things you can't change, it's one of the only things I've learned while on this earth.

I try to sleep, but I the idea of mentoring a kid keeps me awake. Diana, who must believe I'm asleep, begins to cry softly.

I fall asleep listening to my wife's sobs.

The next day at the reaping, a girl named Harmony Blanchard and a boy named Gage Nolan are chosen. Harmony is fourteen and Gage is only a year older. As I see them walk onto the stage all I can imagine is my unborn child doing the same thing.


	4. Mute

**The Mentors**

**_Chapter Four_**

_Ivo Wright (D1)_

My wife's voice pulls me out of my reverie. "Ivo? Are you even listening to me?"

The look in her wide blue eyes is slightly annoyed, but mostly amused. I smile and kiss her before shaking my head with a grin. Mahogany sighs and ruffles my hair before turning back to her cooking. I sometimes wonder how she keeps everything in shape around here . . . I help, of course, but I either do it wrong or get so overwhelmed I want to scream. Having two seven-year old twins does that to you.

Mahogany's long auburn hair falls in ringlets to just above her shoulders and her face has that . She is _so_ beautiful and all I want to do is tell her. I open my mouth and try to speak . . . but I can't. I _can't_. I close my mouth slowly and look away. I haven't spoken since I witnessed my father's murder when I was only ten years old. It's a difficult situation when you're married and have kids. Hell, it was difficult situation when I was a reclusive Victor that never interacted with anyone.

"Daddy!" a voice squeals, managing to alert me just before my little girl catapults into my arms. I smile and give her the _behave_ look that she so often gets. Finnea grins mischievously. I smile again and hold her close. She wiggles out of my grasp after a few moments and jumps to the floor. "I'ma get Kyle!"

I chuckle at the thought of Kyle's face when his sister wakes him. I just know she'll either scream her jump him. He's so much like my brother was when we were younger. I guess it's appropriate, considering that he's named after my brother . . . My brother died two years after I won, chosen for the Games probably just for shits and giggles. My mother died when she was giving birth to me, so I don't have family other than my wife and kids.

I hear a knock at the door and Mahogany takes her eyes off the food for a second to say, "It's probably Rohan, I invited him over breakfast this morning."

I roll my eyes and walk to the door. Mahogany's surprise guest is waiting for me on our front porch. I smile at him before ushering him into the house. Rohan was my mentor when I was in the Games and since then, has been like a father figure in my life. It's transferred over to my children, they think of him as a grandfather.

Mahogany grins at him over her shoulder. "Good morning, Rohan. You're looking especially spiffy this morning. Eggs?"

He grins. "Sure, 'Gany, you know how I like them."

"Sunny side-up," she replies with a grin.

He chuckles. "Oh, you know me too well."

A ghost of a smile forms on my face as I listen to their conversation. Kylemore drags into the room looking utterly exhausted. Dear Panem at the dark circles!

I give him a concerned look, he stares up at me emotionlessly with too-tired-for-a-seven-year-old eyes, "I didn't get much sleep last night."

Rohan bends down to look him in the eye. "What's keeping you up, my boy?"

Kylemore blushes and looks at his feet. "I'm having nightmares."

Rohan and I share a look, trying to smother grimaces. We can sympathize. "Well, I guess that's something we have in common, Kyle."

Kyle looks up at Rohan with a slightly happier expression. "Really? What are your's about?"

Mahogany and I both give Rohan warning looks, and Rohan frowns. "Things I did."

"What did you do?" Kylemore asks.

"Nothing that you should worry about," Rohan says with a strained grin and ruffles Kylemore's hair. "You need to go get ready for the reaping, my boy."

"Okay," Kylemore says and goes on his merry little way. I share a look with Mahogany and she just shakes her head.

"You're really good with him, Rohan," Mahogany tells him and pushes plates full of food in front of us.

Finnea has always been known for her ability to smell food a mile away and she quickly enters the dining room. She has a pretty green dress that clashes with her hair is a nice way. Both Mahogany and Finnea have curly, red hair.

I eat quickly- almost dying from the pure deliciousness- and go to dress in my best suit. When I exit the room, Mahogany has already changed into her outfit, a dress that looks suspiciously identical to Finnea's. They must have planned this adorableness . . . Dear Panem, I'm going crazy.

Rohan has already left, Mahogany tells me that Kylemore begged to go with him so she finally relented.

As we walk to the reaping, I'm immensely grateful that Finnea and Kylemore have five more years until they have a chance at being reaped. We are soon at the square and Kylemore literally bulldozers me over in his pursuit of his sister when they start and impromptu game of tag. I walk with Rohan to the stage after I calm the children down enough for their mother to herd them off into the crowd.

The mayor introduces himself and announces the Victors. I stand when my name is called and people clap politely, even though I hear the whispers and snickers. This is the first year they're allowing me to mentor, since I'm mute and all . . . Can you believe it's taken me this long to convince them with my charming words in the form of notes?

The mayor does his annual speech and I try not to fall asleep. Must. Stay. Awake. I turn to Rohan. "So who's volunteering this year?"

"If all goes as planned, Magnificent Richmond and Gaze Benton." I nod as the mayor introduces the escort. I don't really pay attention to the escort, just to the name she calls. A small girl from the Fourteens is chosen but a sixteen-year old I've seen near the training center volunteers. A very tall sixteen-year old boy is reaped, but is quickly volunteered for.

Rohan turns to me. "They've been training all they're lives so this year should be easy for you." I nod, Rohan helps train future tributes, unlike me. I decided I didn't want to train kids a long time ago, it didn't make since considering I wasn't a Career in my Games. It's not my fault whoever was supposed to volunteer chickened out and I was only twelve . . .

I shake the tributes' hands before telling Rohan goodbye, and jogging into the town square to find my family. When I finally catch sight of them, Finnea is sobbing and Kylemore is give her an "_are you seriously crying?_" face. Finnea runs to me and Kylemore begrudgingly joins in the hug after a moment. When my children pull away I hug Mahogany before pulling back and giving her a small kiss. "It's only for a few weeks, Finnea, I'll be fine. Be nice to your sister, Kyle! I love you all, but I have to go."

As I walk quickly to the train, I wonder if I'm going to fail miserably at being a mentor.

I really fucking hope not.


	5. Squirrels

**The Mentors**

**_Chapter Five_**

_Hazel Birchbark (D7)_

"C'mon, idiot, just let me go cut down that Panem-damned tree!" I yell at the Work Administrator. He keeps blabbering on about protocol and the forest being closed, but I just glare at him. "Dude, I don't care if the forest is burning down, I just want to chop something the fuck down."

He sighs and finally lets me through the electrified gate surrounding the forest. I let my axe drag on the ground, after months of not using it it's actually heavy. This needs to be remedied, I am not weak, especially when I have an axe in my hand.

I throw the axe at one of the stupid trees just to see if I still have my edge. It sinks perfectly into the center of the trunk. I smirk at my skill, pulling my axe out of the tree. After a few minutes of searching, I find the perfect tree. The tree isn't huge, just twelve inches in diameter. Without stopping, it could cut in five minutes, and I only have ten until the reaping.

I begin to chop and with every hit, I think of a person in my District who voted me into the arena. I was _fourteen_! Why would anyone _do _that? I push the thoughts out of my mind, wouldn't want to go on a killing spree through District Seven. I would _totally_ get in trouble for that.

"So do you expect to finish that before the reaping?" a voice asks, scaring the complete and utter _shit_ out of me.

I stumble and almost cut off my foot. I turn around, my eyes blazing and axe raised, contemplating murder. "Damn it, Birch! Do you know how _stupid_ that was?"

He shrugs. "It didn't seem that stupid to me."

"It would've seemed more stupid if I wasn't so awesomely talented and cut off my own Panem-damned foot!" I spit.

"Well, it's because I know you're so _awesomely talented _that I did it," he says sarcastically, rolling his eyes at my obvious fury.

"If you don't watch it, it's going to be your foot getting cut off," I mutter.

"What was that?" he asks, hand cupping his ear, mocking me.

"Nothing," I say with a sickly sweet smile.

Birch is annoying, for the most part. He's nice to look at, sure, but he isn't the best conversationalist. He's most likely the person I talk to most in the world, I guess putting him in the running for best friend, though I don't think of him whatsoever in those terms. I guess mentoring someone creates some type of unbreakable bond.

The weird thing about Birch and I, though, is that we're the same age. I won five years ago at fourteen, and he did last year at eighteen. I sometimes wonder if Birch thought along the lines of, "Who does this bitch think she is, giving me advice?" last year.

"We're going to be late for the reaping," he says suddenly, grinning at me. "You'll have to save that tree for when you get back from the Capitol with our new Victor."

I glare at him fiercely. "You made me waste my time, Birch, so you better keep this tree safe while I'm gone."

"Or what?" he taunts.

"I won't speak to you for a month." He laughs but I counter with a raised eyebrow. "We both know you value my company more than you let on, Birch."

He finally relents, sighing, "I swear, no one will touch it. Not even squirrels."

"Yeah, right," I say, rolling my eyes and letting out a small laugh. I begin to walk and Birch tries to catch up, but I stop or pull ahead every time I find him beside me. I can see him getting aggravated with my evasions and can't help but smile.

I chuckle as I feel his glare on my back. He doesn't like silence, and I don't like it either, but his annoyance is priceless. I laugh quietly and he huffs behind me. We quickly make it back to the front gate and the work administrator glares at me.

Birch uses my preoccupation with shooting daggers at the other man to catch up. "What did you to piss the admin off?"

"I yelled."

Birch laughs. "Shouldn't have expected anything else from you."

"I can actually talk to people without yelling at them, you know." I scowl. "As evidenced by our conversation."

He snickers and we stop our bickering for a bit, talking of more important things. "So who do you think it's going to be?"

"I have no clue," I answer truthfully. "It's so much easier to think who's going in when people vote."

"I didn't vote for you," he tell me abruptly. Well, okay, Birch. That was totally unnecessary in every possible way.

"Who'd you vote for?" I ask.

"Myself," he answers with a laugh. "I felt so . . . _guilty_, even thinking about voting to send someone to their possible death. It's embarrassing."

I nod, smiling as I imagine a young Birch so agonized over the decision to vote for someone. "I voted for some huge eighteen-year old everyone said they were voting for. I guess, they were all actually voting for me." He looks uncomfortable, and I don't blame him. I'm a fucked up young girl who won't ever forgive her district.

"Here we are," he says and I see that we're on the outskirts of the square. We walk up onto the stage and sit in the uncomfortable wooden chairs. We get here just in time for the mayor to start her speech. I wish I would've missed this part, but I'm sure the Peacekeepers would have found my ass and brought me here anyway if I would have skipped.

The escort is introduced minutes later. Donnie is his name. He looks pretty plain by Capitol standards. Hell, I look more like a Capitolite than he does. My green streaks of hair far outshine his slight signs of makeup.

The escort calls out the girl's name. Olive Battle. The name rings a vague bell. When I see her face, I immediately recognize her. She spends a lot of time working in the forest.

The boy is chosen, and I hear the mayor let out a surprised gasp before tears start running down her face. It's her son, Forrest Gamble. He's only sixteen and by the look of him, is used to a very luxurious life. I _might_ be able to beat it out of him by the time we get to the Capitol.

The reaping is deemed over after I shake my tribute's hands. I say goodbye to Birch before leaving for the trains. Donnie, the escort, pulls me into the train with a firm tug. I don't _need_ his help but why work when you don't have to? I sit in the comfy chairs and wait for my lovely tributes.

My mind drifts back to my earlier conversation with Birch. He better keep those Panem-damned squirrels out of my tree or I'll castrate him.


	6. The Odds

**The Mentors**

**_Chapter Six_**

_Blaise Calder (D10)_

My house in Victor's Village. How can I describe it? Hmm. Very full. My fiancee, my grandmother, my brother and sister, my eight cousins, and three foster kids live with me.

Palmer, my oldest cousin at twenty-one, lives at my deceased grandfather's dairy farm. He doesn't run it, that job goes to me, of course, but he lives in the house that's on the farm. I've urged him to to let Piper and Pepper live with him, but with his triplets on the way, he doesn't think he'll have room. I'm pretty damn sure he'll have room, unlike me, who can't move five inches without running into someone.

I love my family, don't get me wrong, but living in a house full of eleven children, two teenagers, a seventy-eight year old woman, and an increasingly frantic fiancee is not fun. At all.

"Damn it," Nova mutters as the door handle rattles. We have the luxury of having a room to ourselves. We only lock the so our sleep won't be interrupted, if we didn't the amount of kids in our bed would be unimaginable. As children dread their mother's voice in the morning on school days, we dread the moment the door handle rattles. Our peace and quiet is officially over.

"Not in front of the children," I chide with a sarcastic smile.

"Shut it, Blaise," she shoots back with a good-natured grin. She climbs out of bed and I fight the urge to pull her back and ignore the more persistant rattling of the door handle. I pull on sweatpants and a ratty old t-shirt Nova frequently urges me to burn and bury deep in the earth.

I cautiously unlock the door and a flurry of brown hair belonging to my cousin, Paisly, overtakes me. "_Blaiiiise_! Pavi _hit_ me!"

I smile and shake my head as Pavi casually strolls in. "Did you hit your sister?"

"Which one?" he asks with a grin.

"Your _twin _sister," I clarify.

His grin disappears. "Oh. That one. Yeah. I hit her."

I roll my eyes. "_Apologize_."

He returns my eye roll and apologizes quietly. Nova sits on the bed, listening to the conversation with a slight smirk. Pavi and Paisly run out of the room, laughing, feud quickly forgotten

"Kids are so . . . forgiving," Nova muses in wonder.

"It's probably the attention span of a fish that allows that," I joke with a grin. Parsnip runs in and trips over his feet. He begins to cry and Nova pulls him to her lap. She soothes him with a soft voice and fond words. He eventually stops crying and hugs Nova before jumping off her lap and running out of the room.

Nova turns to me, face glowing. She wants to be a mother so much, even though we don't have enough room for a baby at this moment. She comforts herself with housing foster kids until she can find a permanent home. Sometimes she even plans for them to be moved to another District, for a family who desperately wants a child. I pay, she fills out all the paperwork. It's a great system and she loves every moment of it.

We have three foster kids living with us. We've had the toddler-aged girl since she was a newborn, but the older boys are a recent addition to our happy family. We're waiting until Piper and Pepper move out and get a place of their own before getting married. Hopefully they can take some of the gremlins . . .

I look at the clock and realize I'm late at starting breakfast. I jog out of the room, down the stairs, and into the kitchen. My grandmother, Mina, sits in the rocking chair, staring out the window with an infinitely sad expression on her face. I stare at her a moment before clearing my throat to get her attention. She turns to look at me, a tear rolling down her cheek. "Dyson and I always used to watch the sun rise and set together. I haven't missed one in over forty years."

Dyson was my grandfather and he died only a few months ago. She's taking it as well as anyone who just lost the love of their life would be. I'm worried for her, and I don't know how to help her. I would suggest going back to the farm but Parker probably "doesn't have room for her."

I pat her shoulder and try to smile comfortingly. "It's okay, Gran, it'll all be okay."

She smiles weakly. "Don't worry about me, Blaise."

"What do you want for breakfast?" I ask.

"Eggs would be nice."

"Eggs it is, then." Cooking breakfast for sixteen people is not an easy task, but I do it every morning, it's like second nature to me. I cook lunch for Gran, Bubona, Nova, and myself, since the rest are busy at school. I cook dinner for everyone, but Nova eats with her parents most of the time.

I prepare the eggs and I can only smile at the screaming upstairs. Nova must be trying to get the children dressed.

I'm worried about today. Peter, Piper, Pepper, and Shepherd are all eligible for the reaping this year. Peter and Shepherd are especially nervous, since their both twelve.

As I'm just finishing the cooking, my cousins, brother and sister, and foster children- excluding Bubona- run down the stairs. Nova doesn't come with them, probably preoccupied with getting herself and Bubona dressed. Delphia, Merril, Paisly, Pavi, Parsnip, Peter, Palla, Pansy, Pepper, Piper, Shepherd, and Rutherford all take their places at the table. While I was cooking, Gran went upstairs to help dress the children and get ready herself. She slowly comes down the stairs and takes her normal seat beside Palla- though Gran would never admit to it, Palla is her favorite of my uncle's children.

Nova comes down the stairs carrying Bubona and looking absolutely radiant in a blue dress. She sits Bubona in her high chair and then takes her place at the table. I pass plates every which way and the sounds of chaos are oddly comforting. I eat beside the stove, trying to separate myself from the mess of our family and just observe.

I put all the dishes in the sink for Piper or Pepper to do later and we leave for the reaping. We're like a whole crowd ourselves walking down the street, loud laughter and yelling causing people to glare openly at us.

The reapings are brief and boring. Fern Carver, a sixteen-year old, and Saffron Yang, a fifteen-year old, are chosen. i'm not extremely happy since they aren't the oldest, and I want my first year to be wonderful. But at the very least they aren't twelve or thirteen.

The reapings are deemed over after I shake my tributes' hand and go to see Nova one last time before I board the train. I hug her, kiss her, and unhappily tell her goodbye.

I walk to the train, hoping this year will be a resounding success.

But I'm sure the odds won't be in my favor.


	7. Infertile

**The Mentors_  
_**

_**Chapter Seven**  
_

_Lilac Parrish (D6)_

Dr. Hudson comes back into the room, a thick folder in his hands. I roll my eyes at the thought of it being my medical records. Of course it would be huge. I had extensive surgery after winning my Games. I was very, _very_ close to death.

"Maybe you should sit down," the doctor says and the terror than envelops me is mind-numbing as I do as instructed. I need Valor. Why isn't he here, with me? I chastise myself through the fright. He has plans, Lilac. You're a big girl, do you really need Valor to hold your hand? "As you well know, you received injuries in your Hunger Games, as tributes usually do. The most noticeable of which is from the swipe of the District Seven's boy axe, the one that the Capitol surgeons couldn't keep from scarring. . ."

I remembered that moment in the Games. There are some moments in life when you just _know_ you're screwed. That's what I felt in that moment as the excruciating pain bubbled up. I _knew_ I was going to die. I had come so far and I was going to fucking die.

"Lilac, honey?" the doctor asked, "Do you understand what I'm telling you..?"

"I don't . . ." I pause, trying to collect my bearings. "What did you just say?"

The doctor pauses. "The injury has effected your . . . reproductive system."

"What do you mean?" I ask him wearily.

"Lilac, the swipe of that axe damaged your uterus. The possibility of you being able to conceive a child is . . . next to zero."

"What . . .?" I shake my head in disbelief. "What are you _saying_?"

"You're infertile, Lilac," Dr. Hudson tells me, patting my hand. "I'm so sorry."

* * *

Valor tells me that being pregnant isn't fun anyway, that I'm not missing out on anything. But I know better. I've seen so many women with their pregnant glow. I despise their happiness, their glow, their fertility.

_Infertile_.

The word is horrible, a death sentence on me producing a life. I despise it. But what I hate more is that I can never give Valor children. He should be a father, but he can't because he's in love with me.

He shouldn't be. Dear Panem, he shouldn't love me. It was hard enough to forgive myself for being broken after the Games, for giving him a broken woman, but _this. _This is too much for me to deprive him of.

Valor shrugs awake. I smile warmly at him, but my mind has a constant, depressing background noise. _Children, children, babies, babies. Can't let him do this, can't let him not have children_.

Valor has a crinkle between his eyebrows, telling me that he's thinking hard about the current situation. He can tell that my mind has taken me to my dark place and pulls me into his arms. We lay there, trying to give each other strength. Trying to pull our lives back together from the mess that it's been. But we can't.

He leans back so he can look at me. "Lilac, I want to marry you."

The ever present lump in my throat somehow grows larger, "I can't, you know that. I'm broken; physically and mentally. I can't do that to you, you deserve more. You don't deserve to be stuck with me for the rest of your life."

He grimaces, but kisses me. I can see the grief in his eyes. "Even if you don't marry me, I'll be with you for the rest of my life. I love you, Lilac, I couldn't possibly want anyone else. I want you forever, broken or not."

I glare at him, though it doesn't have anger behind it, just frustration. "Don't say that."

He caresses my cheek. "I'm only trying to tell you the truth. This is what I want. I don't care if you have nightmares, I don't care if you can't have children. I need you. I need you and I'm not going to give you up, however hard you try to make me."

"Valor, don't say those things. I don't want to take your happiness away because I'm being selfish."

"Just us being together . . . it makes me the happiest man on earth, Lilac. With a baby, or without one, I'll always be happy with you."

I close my eyes, fighting back the tears that are sure to come. I don't want him to suffer through a life of disappointment with me, even knowing it will destroy me if he ever does take my advice. Valor is one of the last things I have left. Things that make me, _me_.

"We need to go." I sigh. "If we don't start getting ready now, we won't make it to the reaping on time."

He sighs. "I'll go make breakfast, you should get dressed."

I stare blankly at the door after he leaves. What can I do to make him see he can do so much better than me? I climb out of bed and trip, making my ribs throb.

"Damn it to hell." I pull myself off the floor and make it to the dresser in one piece, thank Panem.

I pick the light pink dress that makes my eyes look more golden-brown than the usual muddy color. This is my favorite dress and Valor's favorite on me. I laugh when I look in the mirror as memories of much happier times flood through my mind. Times when my nightmares were the greatest threat, not my infertility.

"Lilac? Breakfast is ready!" Valor's voice floats up to me from downstairs. As I walk down the stairs, his eyes get a little bit brighter.

He pulls me into an embrace and trails kisses down my neck. I disengage myself from him with a small giggle and he kisses me once more before we turn to our meal. We sit and eat together, reveling in just being happy, if only for the moment.

He cleans the dishes after we are done eating. I go upstairs to pick out his clothes, at his request. I don't do that usually, I'm not crazy. Valor comes in and slips his clothes on. I kiss him and he takes my hand as we go downstairs, out the door, and to the reaping.

"You haven't seen your family, in what? Three weeks?" he says as we approach the square. "Maybe you should try to talk to them today."

"When I get back," I promise. "I just . . . can't right now, okay?"

Valor looks down at me with an infinitely sad expression. My face probably reflects his, with maybe a bit more hopelessness. He kisses my the top of my head and I hug him before going to sit with District Six's other Victor, Maigh Lee Simpon.

She turns to me with a concerned expression. "How are you holding up?" It's only been three weeks since Dr. Hudson told me that I couldn't have children. I'm still adjusting to it and everyone else is, too.

"As good as to be expected," I say stiffly.

"I could go to the Capitol instead," she whispers.

"No, I'm going."

"Well . . . okay, if that's what you want."

The mayor comes up to the stage to give his speech. I don't even register that he's talking. I'm staring through the crowd, searching for Valor's face in the sea of unrecognizable ones. I find him and lock gazes with him as the mayor calls up the escort.

The escort, her name is Cynthia, gets right down to business and pulls the girl's name out. "Maeve Faulkner!" The girl is only fifteen.

"Pierce Meadows," she calls out next. The boy is younger than Maeve, at thirteen. My heart aches for them, they don't have a chance. The reaping is finally over and I don't go to anyone. I simply walk to the train.

I can't deal with another goodbye.


	8. Interesting

**The Mentors_  
_**

_**Chapter Eight**  
_

_Quinn McKinney (D8)_

"Quinnie McKinney!" my mother yells from downstairs, using her affectionate- and completely embarrassing- nickname for me. I groan into my pillow and try to get back to the elusive thing called sleep.

Just to let you know, I do _not _live with my parents. They live with _me_ in my house in Victor's Village. Garrison, my youngest brother, lives with me too since he's unemployed. He says he's trying to find a job, but really, I have no idea when it comes to Garri. He only ever wants to get drunk and have sex with random people, which I can't really _blame_-

I'm getting off track, aren't I?

My other siblings, Jaspe and Cotton, are married and out of my house, thank Panem.

"_Quinn Elizabeth McKinney_, get down here!" my father yells in his angry voice. I curse at him under my breath. Why did I get stuck with this wonderful mother and father who don't understand the necessity of sleeping in?

Oh, just get it over with, Quinn.

I jump out of bed and cross the room to my dresser. A satin dress the color of a fresh peach lays across the wood and my eyebrows furrow in confusion. I look around the room for other clues and see a packed bag on my desk.

No sleeping in . . . dress . . . bag..?

Holy shit, today's the reaping.

What mentor could forget a thing like that? Well, besides the drunks and druggies, I'm sure they'd forget. I slip out of my pajamas- I let out a cry of agony in my mind, I love those things- and put on my dress.

I go to the bathroom to try and make myself look halfway decent.

I rear back in surprise at the person staring back at me in the mirror. Dear Panem, my hair is a hot mess. I run my fingers through the raven black waves that fall a few inches under my shoulders. My eyes look disgusted, the cinnamon-coloring darkening.

My father has a very disgruntled look on his face when I walk into the kitchen. "Oh, joy, the princess has finally arrived."

"And she's not in a good mood," I tease. He just rolls his eyes and gives me a plate of bacon and I notice a family member's absence. "Where's Garri?"

"He didn't come home last night," my mother says in a clipped tone as she enters the kitchen.

I smile. "Who was he with this time?"

My mother gives me a scandalized look but my father chuckles. "Who knows?"

I laugh and eat my bacon, licking my lips and fingers after I'm done. I love bacon. Like a lot. I pass the plate to my mother who proceeds to wash it, along with other dishware.

I kiss them both on the cheek. "Well, I'm going to make sure Frieze is alive. I'll see you guys when I get back, tell Garri I want the full story of last night!"

"Bye, Quinn-Quinn! I hope you bring someone home this time," my mother squeals and hugs me. I groan into her shoulder. I am twenty-nine freakin' years old and my mother still calls me _Quinn-Quinn_. I shrug out of her hug and mutter a goodbye to them both.

I walk across the street to Frieze's house and knock quickly. I hear a muffled _thump _and a low oath. I can't help but laugh. He opens the door, his orange hair ruffled. He doesn't even have a shirt on.

I rock back on my heels in surprise. Well, howdy, abs.

"Yes?" he asks, his eyes narrowing at my dress. "What are you wearing?"

"It's the reaping day." I smirk. "But I'm sure you already knew that."

"Ugh, yeah," he lies.

Oh, us District Eight Victors have such good memories.

"Why aren't you ready then?" I ask innocently, but his eyes narrow.

"I slept in by accident," he lies smoothly.

I just laugh and walk away but, surprisingly, I don't hear his door slam until a minute or two later. Frieze and I have a very strained relationship. I keep him in line and he, in return, does nothing for me.

As I walk, I know my friends are approaching because of "Aw", "Aren't they so cute together?", "They need to get married" being thrown around casually.

When I'm finally able to prepare myself for the scene I will behold, I turn to look at them.

Linsey and Finch hold hands. Dear Panem, they make my teeth rot with all the sickly sweet love they give off.

Finch is one of the few golden boys of District Eight. He's blond, he's got blue eyes, he makes most girls melt, he is smart _and _athletic. To me he is eerily perfect, but I know he has a different side than the Mr. Perfect he lets most of the district see. I don't even know if Linsey sees past it or not and they've been together for _four_ years.

Linsey is a different story altogether. She's perfect, too, but there's nothing behind that perfectness other than more perfect. "Quinn, where have you been?"

"Sleeping in my bed." I grin. "It was quite nice, you should try it sometime."

Linsey laughs like a freaking bird tweeting along and Finch laughs his deep and slow one, like honey. Damn it, they suck.

"Maybe I will," Finch says, smirking at me. I get it, Finch, you're making a sexual innuendo that I'm supposed to blush over. Linsey doesn't get it, or chooses to disregard it. Because, really, he can't be serious. How could I ever compete with _Linsey_?

"You are so great, Finch!" Linsey says, smiling sweetly up at him, and leaning in to kiss him softly.

Gag.

"To die for," I comment, injecting as much sarcasm as possible in those three words.

Finch rolls his eyes and Linsey grins at me, "I'm so glad someone thinks so too!"

Okay, maybe Linsey _isn't _perfect. She's a ditz.

"She was being sarcastic, honey," Finch explains, while secretly rolling his eyes at me. Finch can be such an ass at times, and considering I'm never mean- I was just raised that way- it's kind of refreshing. It might be why I'm friends with him.

"What does that mean, again?" Linsey asks slowly, directing the question towards me.

I explain it to her quickly, before turning away to walk by myself. Sometimes you just can't deal with the two of them, everyone loves them so much. It's hard to stand by them and not feel insecure.

I'm almost to the square when someone taps me on the shoulder and I turn to see Finch. He looks winded and Linsey isn't on his arm, so I'm immediately wary of his presence.

"Where did she go?" I ask, my eyes narrowed.

"She got caught up at a hot dog stand."

"When did District Eight get a hot dog stand?" I ask, straitening up in my confusion.

"We don't." He grins at me. "I just told her there was one."

I laugh, despite myself. "Nice one. May I ask _why_, though?"

"I needed to talk to you," he says simply.

"Oh, really?"

"Yes, can I write to you, while you're in the Capitol?" he asks.

"Are you looking for conversation with a person that has more brain cells than a stick?" I ask. Okay, maybe I am mean sometimes. Finch brings it out in me.

He flashes a winning smile. "Exactly."

"Sure you can, we're friends," I say. "Get back to Linsey. I'm pretty sure she's figured out that there's no hot dog stand by now."

"I wouldn't be so sure," Finch lunges forward and kisses me on the lips.

I push him away violently. "What the hell are you doing?"

Finch grins. "You know there's something between us, Quinn, we can both feel it."

"If you don't back the fuck off you're going to feel me kicking your ass."

Finch just laughs and walks away. I stand in the spot, my fists clenching and unclenching as I stand. I swiftly turn on my heel and stalk to the reaping. I throw myself into the chair beside Frieze and glare into the crowd.

Frieze grimaces at me. "You know you don't have to take care of me, Quinn. I am perfectly capable on waking up and getting to the reaping on my own."

I snort derisively. "It didn't look like it to me."

I don't hear another word from him but can feel his glare.

The reaping is over before I can even begin to what Finch has done to everyone's relationship. Scout Santana, a thirteen-year old, is chosen along with Clay Howe, who is only fifteen.

I walk to the trains and come face to face with Frieze. He smiles at me, and I'm taken aback by the expression. Why is he even here? It's not like he's coming or anything.

"What are you doing here?"

"Saying goodbye," he says and leans down. His lips touch mine softly and I take a slow step back after a few seconds. He ruffles my hair before turning and walking away.

Well that's interesting.

* * *

**A/N: Okay, I realized that Quinn is so much different in the Capitol. She gets a lot more seriousness, it's the stress from the Capitol I've reasoned in my head. Her reaction to Finch is much, much different now. I like it though.  
**


	9. It's Not Fair

**The Mentors**

_**Chapter Nine**_

_Ronny Pied (D5)_

Kallen isn't home when I wake up and I scream into my pillow for about ten minutes before I'm able to control myself to some degree. My nightmares were much more violent last night than usual. They always are the night before the reaping.

It's my fault that I'm alone this morning, Kallen would have never left this morning if I told him how bad the nightmares are before the reaping. I hug my legs to my chest, rocking slowly. How long will it be before he comes home..?

It is only thirty minutes later when I hear a door open and slam. I let out a sigh, thank Panem he's here. His footsteps are quiet on the stairs and the door opens very slowly, him trying to not disturb me. His eyes widen at the sight of me; eyes swollen and red from tears, hair wild. He sits on the bed beside me, pulling me into a tight hug. I revel in his embrace, becoming intoxicated by his warmth and smell.

"Are you okay?" he asks when the silence becomes too much for him.

"As well as to be expected," I reply.

He kisses my forehead softly. When he pulls back, though, his eyes flash challengingly. "That's not good enough, Ronny."

I groan and pull myself from his hold. "Don't give me the optimistic crap today, Kallen. _Please_."

Kallen rolls his eyes and pulls me back into his arms, despite the disgruntled noise that escapes from my lips. "I don't want you to leave."

"Capitol orders." I hate that I have to leave just as much as I hate mentoring kids that are already dead in my eyes. "You know I don't want to go, either."

"Why can't Dale go instead?" Kallen inquires.

"We've been over this." I run a hand through my hair, it catches in knots along the way.

Kallen groans and I wriggle out of his embrace once more. I walk to the bathroom and take a quick shower, hoping the warm water will wash away the memory of my nightmare. It doesn't help me forget, but the hot water soothes my frayed nerves. Kallen walks in just as I step out of the shower.

"I don't want you to leave," he whispers, eyes filled with bitterness. He doesn't have anyone to turn to when I leave. His parents kicked him out of their house when he turned eighteen and he never forgave them for it- he hasn't spoken to them in years, actually.

"It's only for a few weeks," I reply, wrapping my arms around his muscular frame. "I'll be back before you know it."

"You haven't been in so long," he says. That is true, Dale has been going for the Games since I was eighteen. I think he might have a mistress there, as much as it disgusts me. "I'm used to you being _here_."

"I know, Kallen." I scowl at him. "I get it."

"It's hard without you."

"It's harder for _me_, for those kids who are going to _die_," I snap bitterly.

Kallen flinches at my hostility and I walk back into our bedroom without looking at him once. I stride to the dresser in the corner. I thumb through the different pieces of clothing, finally picking a green dress. I gently place it on the bed and return to the bathroom to dry my hair.

Ten minutes later, I'm walking downstairs, dressed. I grab two muffins off the tray Kallen pushes toward me. I kiss him softly before walking out of the house.

I come to a halt when I hear scrounging in the nearby garbage cans. A head sticks out slightly and I can just make out the blue eyes. Along with that and the black hair, I realize who it is. It's the little twelve-year old who lives just outside Victor's Village. What's her name again? ..._Key_. That's her last name, isn't it?

"Hey, Key!" I call and the girl tips over in the garbage can, scrambling out of it quickly.

"Want a muffin?" I ask before she can bolt. Her little face lights up but she approaches me with caution. She takes the muffin gingerly from my hands and eats it in what I would argue, a bite.

"What's your name, kid?" I ask gruffly, passing her the other muffin.

"Iris," she whispers.

"Do you have any siblings?" I hope the answer to that question is a huge _no_.

"I have three sisters."

"Oh."

I'm going to tell Kallen to invite the whole family over to dinner after I leave. Iris stares at the second muffin I've given her, frowning. She hesitantly holds it out for me to take back. "I ate your other one . . . so take it."

I'm feeling a bit nauseous, so I had only been nibbling at the muffin. I shake my head and push her hand away. "I wasn't going to eat it, anyway. It's all just a show so my fiancé doesn't worry about my nutrition."

"Well, I hope you have a good trip to the Capitol," she says in a small voice, averting her gaze shyly.

I smile reassuringly, a small grimace on my face. "I wouldn't bet on it."

We both stare in opposite directions awkwardly and I clear my throat. "I'll see you around, Iris."

Iris nods before walking quickly away. I stare after her for a few moments and think about waiting for Kallen to leave so I can walk with him. I ultimately decide to go by myself.

The walk to the square is short and I gladly welcome the exercise. I've been recovering from what I think is the longest-lasting illness of my life, so I haven't left the house much. I feel eyes burning my back as I walk up the stairs of the stage. I sit beside Dale with a very noticeable grimace on my face.

The man smiles blandly at me. "I could always go, Ron."

"Why?" I snap. "So you can see the whore you've been screwing?"

Dale laughs, rolling his eyes. I never know what to think of him. He's so . . . _mellow_. I sometimes can't imagine him cheating on his wife, but for what other reason would anyone agree to mentor _every_ year?

The reaping commences quickly and most of it blurs in my mind. It seems like before I can blink, they escort is walking up to a glass bowl. The woman picks boys first, trying to stand out, I guess.

The boy, Leo Church, is only fourteen. It's going to be horrible, watching him die.

"Now for the girls!" the escort squawks into the microphone, pulling out a slip and grinning as she reads it. "Iris Key!"

Iris. Iris Key. That _little_ girl. Sent to _die_. I can't even . . . I bury my face in my hands, trying not to think of the message that it will send to other mentors. They'll think I believe my tributes are _screwed_. Which, to be honest, they are.

The reaping is deemed over and I flee from the stage, pushing people aside. I have to find Kallen, I _need_ him right now. When I finally see him, I fling myself into his arms and burrow my face into his chest. After a few seconds, I look up at him. "I'm sorry."

He kisses the top of my head. "I'm sorry too."

"The girl's family . . . they live just outside Victor's Village," I murmur. "Can you invite them over to dinner?"

"Of course." He kisses me softly. "I love you."

"I love you too." I pull away and smile. "Try to enjoy the time to yourself, _please_."

I walk away, wondering how in the hell I'm supposed to get one of these kids home. A fourteen and twelve-year old. This isn't right. Why did it have to be the girl I was trying to help earlier today?

Damn it, it's not fair.


	10. Kidding Myself

**The Mentors**

**_Chapter Ten_  
**

_Garland "Garl" Riggs (D12)_**  
**

I'm nearing fifty and I don't like it. My hair, once black, is now gray. I chuckle because it matches my eyes. My skin has more wrinkles that I ever thought possible, but it still has the familiar olive tone to it. I notice my wife in the doorway and I look away from the mirror.

"What are you looking at, old man?" my wife, Alma, asks while laughing. "Age hasn't been easy on you, huh?"

I had a "minor" heart attack last year and almost died, but by the "grace" of the Capitol and their surgeons, I was able to survive. Alma likes to make fun, but I know it scared her to death when I collapsed.

"Don't be mean, Alma," I say with a smile.

"I'm just telling the truth," Alma replies, grinning.

"Hmm," I muse. "Another truth would be that your hair has gotten _really _gray."

She scowls at me. Alma loved her hair when it was blonde, but her adoration has dimmed as the color has it changed. "Gray hair doesn't suit me."

"Old age doesn't suit anybody," I tease.

I kiss her and she laughs despite herself. "I'm going to make breakfast, any suggestions?"

I shake my head and she walks out of the room.

My children always eat breakfast with us on the reaping day. I have two sons and a daughter. My oldest, Darius, is married to a Seam girl named Anna. Next is LR, otherwise known as Lily-Rose, who was just married to the mayor, Case Jenkins. She's also pregnant. My youngest, Riley, is single and trying to get with the baker's daughter currently. I clash with Riley sometimes, but I still love him. For the most part.

I dress in my usual reaping attire; a blue dress shirt and black pants with some fancy shoes that I hate. I walk down the stairs and find my children, my children-in-law, and my wife eating eggs at the table.

"You started without me?" I ask in mock outrage.

Riley grins. "The food just looked so good, we couldn't help ourselves."

I roll my eyes. "Good morning, children."

LR smiles at me. "Good morning, Dad, you look _very _spiffy."

Darius smiles. "Hey, pops."

Riley shovels food in his mouth. Anna smiles shyly, she still hasn't gotten over her self-consciousness around us even though it's been three years. Case grins while giving me an acknowledging nod.

Anna's eyes are focused intently and I follow her gaze to my hand. My pinky finger on my left hand was eaten by wolf-like mutts in my Hunger Games. I always felt that ordering fake ones seemed idiotic for something so small. I put my hands in my pockets and Anna blushes, realizing that I caught her staring.

I sit at the head of my table and eat my eggs, listening to the different conversations with a slight smile. LR vents her frustrations about morning sickness, while Anna tells about her difficulties in getting pregnant. Case and Alma have a quiet conversation about LR's pregnancy. Darius and Riley talk about the baker's daughter in hushed voices.

I just take it all in. This is my family. And I love them. Well, most of the time.

The boys and I eat quickly, because, well, we're hungry men. Anna is from the Seam and always eats quickly, while LR's pregnancy makes her become famished easily. Alma eats the slowest, though she hurries it up for the rest of us.

LR stands up. "Let's go."

Riley smirks. "We can all walk while you get your waddle on."

LR sticks her tongue out at her baby brother and we all leave together. On the way, I say goodbye to my children and their spouses. I'll leave the goodbye to my wife for later. I hug my Alma before going to sit on the stage in my designated chair.

After all these years, I'm still alone.

The mayor gives a respectable, yet boring speech. The escort gives us a treat with a speech of her own. Simply _delightful_. In a normal situation the speech would result in raucous laughter, but since it's the reaping it only receives a few giggles.

The escort finally gets on to her actual job other than "standing there and looking pretty," as she said in her speech. She goes over to the girl's ball and picks a seventeen-year old, Anise Sampson, who is a Seam girl. The boy is Sage Petty, another teenager from the Seam, who is a year younger than the girl. They're older but have the usual starved look to them so I'm guessing they aren't fighters.

The reaping ends and I hug and kiss my wife. I wonder about the chances I have to bring one of my tributes home this year. They actually have more of a chance than tributes from other years have. Maybe they _could_ win.

I sigh, because I know I'm only kidding myself.


	11. They Love Me, I Hate Them

**The Mentors  
**

_**Chapter Eleven**  
_

_Damon Marx (D9)_

No nightmares tonight, no nightmares tonight, no nightmares tonight. Hope is curled into a ball beside me, snoring slightly. I hold onto her softly, trying to not wake her. _Please_, no nightmares tonight.

I had a hectic day. Hope shoved me awake, trying to aid my escape from the terrors found within my own mind. I ate breakfast and for the rest of the day, I hunted. They say we're supposed to turn in ninety percent of what we catch to the Keepers of the Kill, who then put a chemical in the meat that makes it last and ship it to the Capitol. I usually turn in about twenty percent and say the game wasn't plentiful. The meat I keep goes to families who need it a _lot_ more than I do. Who need it a lot more than a Capitolite ever will.

Yeah, I know it doesn't sound very tiring, but for me, it is. I'm so _sleepy_ . . .

-0-

Hope wakes me in the morning, her eyes wide. I pull a hand across my forehead and it comes back with a large amount of sweat. The metallic taste of blood is in my mouth and I discover I bit my lip. Blood has dribbled down my chin during the night and gotten on my pillow.

"I'll be right back," Hope assures me before padding to the bathroom. She's back seconds later with a wet cloth. She washes the blood from my lip, warm water dripping onto my chest.

"Wow." Hope frowns. "You really hurt that lip."

I try to smile but that just splits the wound open again and I bleed like a stuck pig. Hope's gold-flecked green eyes narrow, a grimace flitting across her face. She holds the cloth on the wound forcefully. All it does is make my lip bleed more.

I chuckle. "You were _not_ a healer in your past life."

Hope gives me an unamused glance. "You need to stop doing this, Damon."

"What am I supposed to do?" I demand. "Stop sleeping?"

She only gives me a disappointed glance. "Just try, okay? I've woken up too many times to count with blood all over my sheets."

I flinch, flashing back to the time I had hit her during a nightmare. That was . . . the worst thing I've ever done. Being a _murderer_ even dims in light of that. "I will, I'll try."

Hope smiles and, ignoring the blood, kisses me softly. "Dawn and Trevor are coming over for breakfast soon. You should clean yourself up."

"I'll do my best," I reply with a small smile as she leaves.

I climb out of bed and go to the bathroom. I survey the wound in the mirror. I bit my lip pretty hard and this will probably take a few days to heal. I shower quickly and dress in khaki pants and a navy blue button down.

I hope that my lip swells. The Capitol is . . . _obsessed_ with me, to put it lightly. I'll admit, I'm handsome, but seriously? What is up with that? I despise the idiots.

Hope smiles when I walk into the kitchen. The strong aroma of pancakes makes me smile. I first had the breakfast food on the train to the Capitol and I've had them once a week since I came home after winning the Games.

A knock on the front door scatters my thoughts for a moment, before I walk through the house to the door. I open it to the smiling faces of my twin sister and best friend.

"Good morning," Dawn chirps and skips past me into the house.

"Hey," Trevor greets and walks in behind her. I roll my eyes before closing the door. I walk back into the kitchen and my eyes immediately go to Hope. She's chatting animatedly with Dawn while flipping pancakes. I glance to my friend, Trevor, who's giving Dawn a confused look.

Dawn notices his stare and smirks. "Whatcha looking at, Trev?"

"Nothing," he mutters, blushing. "The food smells good, Hope."

Hope grins. "Thank you so much, Trevor."

I sit at the table and Trevor follows my example, clearing his throat awkwardly. "So are you ready for the Capitol?"

I shake my head quickly. "I don't think anyone ever is."

"The Careers, maybe?" Trevor muses.

"Possibly." I pause before nodding. "The Capitol _does_ love them."

"They love you, too," Trevor points out with a smirk.

"Ugh." I grimace. "I can't stand _any_ of them."

"Who does?" Trevor asks.

"Careers!" Dawn and I chime in at the same time. I turn to roll my eyes at her. "Eavesdropping isn't an attractive quality."

Trevor grins at Dawn's glare towards me, but continues on anyway, "Ah, the useless scum we know as Careers."

"Careers are very important to the Hunger Games," I recite, saying exactly what my escort said when I bashed the Careers after training. I simply stared at her.

Trevor laughs. Hope and Dawn come in with plates of pancakes. We eat quickly, fearful of being late to the reaping. We don't say much, the reaping is starting to take it's toll on all of us. Trevor scowls deeply the whole time, his brother was killed in the twenty-fourth Hunger Games.

Hope takes the empty plates away and we all begin the walk to the reaping. Our train leaves earlier than any other district's, so I have to say my goodbyes beforehand.

"Have fun while I'm gone," I tell Dawn with a smile.

"Oh, I will," she says, a fiery glint in her eyes I've never seen before.

Hope tries not to cry when I tell her that I love her. I wipe away the forming tears gently and kiss her before entering the stage.

I sit beside Delta Jennings, District Nine's other Victor. She's one of the oldest Victors, having won the first Hunger Games.

We get to the _actual_ reaping surprisingly quick. Jasmine Tillman, a small twelve-year old, is reaped. She sobs the whole way to the stage. My heart wrenches at the sight of her face contorted in terror and anguish.

The boy is picked. Miles Sanford. The name doesn't click in my mind until Micah, the mayor, lets out a frightened groan. Dear Panem, it's his _son_. My family has always been close with the mayor's growing up. His daughter and I are very good friends, having known each other since we were toddlers. Miles is only fourteen so I never interacted with him much, but I still feel horrible for my friends.

I touch Micah's shoulder, trying to comfort him in some way. He tears away from my grip, his eyes wild, until he sags in relief after recognizing me. I try to smile reassuringly. "I'm sorry."

He nods and walks off the stage, to see his son for what is most likely the last time. I walk to the train with the escort, who thinks it's her duty to accompany me wherever I go. I politely tell her to get the hell away from me.

I really _hate_ Capitolites.

* * *

**A/N: Just to let you all know, District Nine's Victor had her named changed so there would be no confusion between her and District Three's female tribute.**


	12. Jealousy

**The Mentors**

**_Chapter Twelve_**

_Clubb Paige (D2)_

Some people call them nightmares. I call them dreams. _Wonderful_ dreams. Fantasies of the grandest kind, where all my urges go unpunished and I can finally _feel_ it again. _Death_. I feel the bones break beneath my capable hands and see the blood of other tributes all over myself. I lust for more, my mind _screams_ for more.

It was so agonizing after my Games. I went so long without the power of killing another being, no way to amuse myself. Then the man broke into my house and my need was quenched. The idiot. Breaking into a _Victor's_ house in _District Two_. The Victors in my district are all trained killers.

I told them that he attacked me and I killed him in self-defense. But that is not the truth. He didn't even see me coming and I mutilated him. They found him in many pieces. I loved every minute of it. I loved when the blood sprayed my face, his skin broke beneath my hands, and he lost his head. It was _fun_.

I can still _see_ the surprised then terrified look of the robber when he saw me. I remember feeling his last breath and savoring in the moment of it. Goosebumps appear on my arms.

"Clubb, your maid is making me mad."

The voice breaks me from my reverie. It is my sister, Durian. Durian and I live together. She is like me. She loves to kill, but she never went to the Games. She settles with homeless kids who no one will notice have gone missing. I have not gotten to that point. _Yet_.

"Kill her then," I bark.

"But I'd lose another finger," she whines.

"Tell her to make breakfast," I instruct Durian.

Durian groans and walks out. I bring the memory of tearing the flesh from the robber to the forefront of my mind. The way the blood smelled . . . it makes my mouth water.

I slip on some pants and a shirt, the best clothes that I own, and walk downstairs. My maid has a bloody nose and is crying as she cooks the bacon, eggs, and sausage. Durian sits at the dining table with her fist bloodied and a dissatisfied look on her face.

"Durian, have you been hitting my maid?" I ask slowly. The maid is pitiful and a sudden rage builds up, making me see red.

"Yes," she answers with raised eyebrows.

"You shouldn't do that!" I scream in her face.

The maid shouts out in fright but Durian just rolls her eyes. "Damn you and your mood swings. One second you're telling me to kill her, the next you're yelling at me for punching her."

I stare at Durian, the anger dissipating slightly. The maid, whose name I have yet to remember, sets our plates in front of us.

We eat quietly without a word and a knock gets the maid a, "Get the door, dumb ass!" from Durian which makes me glare daggers at her.

The maid scurries off and comes back with one of my good friends, Chore Starbull. The maid sits down at the counter and tries to eat her food but Chore snatches it away from her and joins us at the table with his prize.

He eats quickly and the maid glares at him. My pity of the woman is beginning to wear thin, so I don't say a word to Chore.

"So, Chore, who's volunteering this year?" Durian asks.

Chore helps at the training center, while I devote my time to keeping in shape and lusting over murder. "If everything goes as planned, Anneliese Buckley and Zeke Maddox."

"Are they any good?" I grunt.

"Excellent."

"Good," Durian simpers.

As we walk to the reaping after we finish eating, I think of the maid. She had an expression of relief that is surely caused by us leaving. Not surprising.

No one approaches us and people move out of our way before we pass. I love being feared. It gives me a power over everyone else, that no other person has.

"Have fun in the Capitol," Durian says, sounding sour.

"I don't want to come back and find the maid dead." It takes _forever _to find a maid that is willing to live with me and Durian.

"Okay." She sounds disappointed.

Chore tells me goodbye and I return the sentiment. I stomp over to the stage and sit in my chair. There are four other victors in District Two and all are very unsocial, though I am the same way so I can't talk.

The small, weak-looking mayor says his part, one of the most boring things I've ever heard, and then the escort comes to the stage to pick the tributes. She babbles about the Capitol for a few seconds and then picks the girl tribute.

The girl picked is thirteen but Anneliese immediately volunteers for her. The boy picked is a hulking figure, who is sixteen. Zeke volunteers for him. Zeke might be the largest tribute on record. He looks around 6'7" and is packed with muscle. Anneliese is 6'1" and she's also packed with muscles, but she looks a lot smarter than Zeke. They're probably the most intimidating tributes I've ever seen. Other than myself, of course.

I walk to the train and a wayward urge to kill my tributes grips me. They get to enjoy themselves in the Hunger Games and I have to watch and wish it was me. It makes my blood boil.

I think, for the first time in my life, I'm jealous.

* * *

**A/N: Clubb is also dramatically different in the Capitol, I'll admit. I chalk it up to him meeting someone he actually _respects_.**


	13. Train Rides: Advice

**The Mentors**

_**Chapter Thirteen**_

_Hazel Birchbark (D7)_

I've come to the conclusion that Forrest is the most annoying son of a bitch I will ever met. Olive, on the other hand, I like. She's quiet, smart, and makes me _not _want to rip someone's hair out.

We're eating dinner and Forrest is having a conversation with the escort. I try to tune them out by imagining what a _real _male tribute would look like, but it only keeps my mind off his existence for a few minutes.

I swallow a mouthful of food and clear my throat. Olive looks up, her face expectant. "So what are you going to do if you win?"

Olive look down. "I don't-."

"I know what _I'm _going to do when I win," Forrest pipes up and I grind my teeth together. And then he babbles on, describing a horrifying lifestyle- well, horrifying to _me_.

He goes on and on until I just . . . _snap_.

"Just shut the hell up!" I scream. "I don't want to hear about what you're going to do when you win, because _you aren't going to!_"

His eyes widen and his mouth drops open in surprise. "Some mentor you are." He pushes away from the table violently, upending a bowl of soup, before storming out of the room.

"To hell with him." I grin brightly at his departure. The escort gives me an aghast look so I hiss at him, causing the bastard to run away. Olive and I are left at the table in silence.

"Thank you," she says quietly.

"What for?" I ask, while stuffing my mouth with a chicken leg.

"Making them leave," she answers. "They're annoying."

"Someone who feels the same way!" I exclaim. "I'm starting to _really_ like you."

"_Great_," she drags out the word sarcastically. She reminds me of Birch, in some ways. She's more quiet than Birch, almost drifting into the background, but she has moments where I can see a slight resemblance between the two.

"Any skills I should know of?" I wonder aloud, ignoring the comment.

Olive's eyebrows furrow in thought. "I've been chopping trees down since I was eight."

"Can you throw an axe though?" I ask.

"I've never really _tried_," she admits, eyes glued to the table. "But I think I could."

I examine her arms. "You certainly have the muscle for it. Anything else?"

"I don't know how to use any other weapon."

"Skill with weapons is _not_ the only thing that matters in the Hunger Games," I tell her with a small smile. I'm trying to be supportive and pleasant than usual, she seems to respond to it.

"I can run pretty fast and I'm strong." Olive grimaces. "That's . . . that's all I can do."

"Here's you training strategy, okay? Spend some time at the throwing knives station, it's basically the same thing as throwing an axe, but you need better aim and less muscle. The rest of your time should be spent with survival tactics. Understand?"

She listens fastidiously. "Thank you, Hazel."

I snort. "Any time. And don't ally with Forrest, no matter what else you do. But do try for at least one ally, they can help a lot. I, myself, didn't have the patience for them, but you'll do well with one."

"I can do that," she tells me, her smile brilliant.

Olive is such a joy to be around compared to my _other_ tribute.

* * *

_Garland "Garl" Riggs (D12)_

Anise and Sage are not as hopeless as I originally thought. They might have some fight in them yet. They both have large families and are the eldest so they have reason to try to live.

They eat large amounts, but always stop when I tell them. I am fearful that the rich food will make another appearance and I can't have that. They need some meat on their bones.

The escort is horribly perky, and never fails to note that when Anise comes to dinner her eyes are red-rimmed from crying. I've been ignoring the idiot whenever she says anything just for that cruelty.

Anise misses her home and her six brothers. She misses her parents. She misses the simplicity of life before she was reaped. She feels cheated out of life.

Sage feels the same way, I'm sure. Every tribute I've mentored for the last twenty-eight years has felt that way. Hell, _I _felt that way.

I walk through the train hallways and hear a deep, guttural sound coming from Anise's room. I'm a little freaked out but I knock on the door anyway. I hear a noise of surprise from the other side of the door.

"Go _away_!" Anise shouts, her voice breaking. She's been crying, the guttural sound was most likely sobs. How did I not realize that in the first place?

"It's me, Anise." There's no noise from the room. "It's Garl."

I hear a sniff and the door opens slowly. Her face is agonized and I can suddenly relate to this seventeen-year old more than anyone else. She walks back to her bed and plops down, pulling her legs to her chest. I sit in the corner of the room in a cushioned chair.

"Are you going to write me off for missing my family?" she snaps, voice filled with bitterness.

"No, I'm not," I reply gently. "It's okay, it is completely natural. I cried on the train ride when I was reaped, it happens to everyone."

Anise sniffs once more. "It makes me feel weak to cry."

I tell her one of the only things I've learned over the years. "Everyone cries at some point. There's no reason to feel weak because of it."

"The sponsors may not like you if you cry in public, though," I joke, when she doesn't reply.

She doesn't even attempt a smile. I sigh and move to the bed beside her. "Just don't let this make you think you have no reason to fight. You have a family that needs you, don't you?"

"I do," Anise croaks.

"Then you have to _try_."

She thinks over what I've said and smiles weakly, "If I do . . . _die_ . . . please tell my family I tried. Only for them."

"You think that now," I reply with a knowing smile. "But you're doing this for yourself, too, Anise."


	14. Chariot Rides: Watch Them Shine

**The Mentors_  
_**

_**Chapter Fourteen**  
_

_Blaise Calder (D10)_

My tributes aren't going to be the best dressed, I can already tell you _that_ much.

My tributes, Saffron and Fern, may have a chance. But maybe that's just wishful thinking on my part. They don't have any weaponry skill and the only things they've learned from herding is what sheep eat and what animals eat sheep. Any other mentor would think they're screwed, but I'm trying to stay optimistic.

All the mentors are crammed together in a short row reserved for just us. This is my first time mentoring and I'm surprised at the welcoming natures of some. To be honest, I was thinking they'd try to kill me or something equally as bad.

The District One man, Ivo, is mute and I wonder how he's going to be a good mentor if he can't give advice to his tributes frequently. The District Two man is Clubb, a hulking and horrifying figure who I'd rather like to not speak to. _Ever_.

The District Three man, Dexter, has an blank stare that never. I think he can speak, but he hasn't said a word to anyone. The District Four woman, Dara, is intimidating in her beauty. She gives evil smirks from time to time that keep me far away from her. The District Five woman, Ronny, is quiet but I have a feeling that she's nicer than she seems.

The District Six woman, Lilac, is my favorite out of the other mentors. She's funny, but there's something . . . subdued about her. Like she's sad.

The District Seven girl, Hazel, is loud, sarcastic, and hostile. She doesn't like her male tribute. I asked why and won't be asking her anything else anytime soon.

The District Eight woman, Quinn, is slightly childish but I like her fun-loving personality. The District Nine man, Damon, is very nice and protective of his tributes. He enjoys cussing out random Capitol people. District Eleven's mentor, Aurora, is nice and polite but seems to have constant anxiety. Her tributes are friends, which would stress me out too.

District Twelve's only mentor, Garl, is funny and I think he is slightly protective of me because I am the youngest mentor here.

I sit in between Lilac and Aurora. Quinn and Garl are trading jokes, Ivo and Dexter are staring off into space, Hazel and Clubb are discussing dismemberment, Damon and Dara are arguing intensely about the Capitol, and Ronny is staring at the door that the chariots will come through.

"So, Lilac, how's Valor?" Aurora asks.

"He's fine," Lilac says without emotion.

"Still as handsome as always?" Aurora asks with a good-natured grin.

Lilac cracks a smile. "Yes."

"Who's Valor?" I ask, curious.

"My boyfriend."

There's an awkward silence so I ask the first thing that pops into my mind. "How long have you been together?"

"Since I was twenty-five," she answers.

"How old are you?" I ask, curious since she didn't actually answer my question.

She smiles and I realize I'm asking _way _too many question. "Thirty-four."

I lean back in shock. They aren't married yet after _nine _years? _Nine_? "Wow, that's a . . . long time. Why haven't you gotten married?"

Her face hardens and she scowls. "Because I won't let him propose."

"Why not?" I ask. She glares at me and I realize I'm prying. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to get into your personal life."

Her expression softens. "It's fine. I don't want him to marry me. I'm broken."

Aurora speaks up. "I know plenty of victors who once described themselves as broken. Now they're married and happy."

"I'm broken in too many ways," Lilac says sadly.

I start to ask what she means when the District One chariot emerges.

The Games are oh so close to beginning. With every inch that the chariot moves the tributes are getting closer to their deaths.

And one is getting closer to victory.

* * *

_Lilac Parrish (D6)_

Blaise is prying. I don't blame him for it; a lot of people don't understand why I won't get married.

The only people I want to know are Valor, my family, and I. No one else should. I was very close to telling Blaise why, but I was able to stop myself. Everyone would know then. Aurora would hear. Then, Dara, the Capitol-lover would tell the press and I would be hounded by questions until I'd want to pull my hair out. Just thinking about it stresses me out.

The District One chariot rolls through the huge double doors that I remember coming out of when I was the small tribute from Six that didn't have a chance and wasn't worth looking at or sponsoring.

District One is dazzling as always. The tributes wear skin-colored jump suits that have expensive jewels stuck into the fabric. It looks like they're naked and they have jewels covering their private parts to me but the Capitol crowd loves it and cheers for them. The jewels catch the light and the random flashes of pink and blue make the Capitol crowd look even _creepier_. Ivo looks pleased, but put off at the same time.

District Two isn't pretty or flashy but their look is appropriate. They wear long-sleeved tunics made of chain-mail and armor. It shows off that their tributes are strong and the best equipped for the arena which, undoubtedly, they are. I'm even scared of them. They both wear snarls and the boy flexes his arm muscles menacingly. The crowd screams for blood from them. Clubb smiles in pleasure, but his eyes scream another message. Jealousy.

District Three isn't as dazzling as One, but they have an outfit that is similar. The girl wears a black leather dress that has blinking lights on it. And the boy has the same, but in a jumpsuit. I guess it shows the technology they have? The crowd screams for them, but not as much as for District One. Dexter stares but shows no emotion. As usual.

District Four is revealing, which isn't much of a surprise considering their children are inhumanly beautiful. The girl wears a bikini made of net, while the boy wears a Speedo made of net. The crowd screams, studies them ravenously, or swoons. Dara looks very pleased,I would be too if my tributes got that kind of reaction.

District Five is simply _wonderful_. They wear lab coats and goggles. The crowd hoots still, but I think they're still focused on District Four mostly. Ronny looks murderous.

My district isn't any better. They wear matching scrubs and stethoscopes. The most interesting part of the outfit is that the tributes are holding syringes. The crowd is still focused on District Four. I am in shock at my stylist's horrible outfit choice.

District Seven is dressed as trees. The tributes looks miserable and the crowd looks at them in pity. "I'm going to kill that stylist. I'm going to rip her pretty little head off," Hazel hisses.

District Eight is interesting. They wear all black but attached to their belt is a piece of fabric draped over the chariot. The interesting part is the cloth changes colors. The crowd "oo"s and "ah"s over the outfit. Yellow, green, blue, purple, red, and pink. Quinn looks satisfied.

District Nine also has better than usual outfits. They wear dark silver clothes that I can't make out very well. They have rubber bows and arrows slung over their backs and bright blue headdresses on that are made of feathers. It glows. The crowd loves it and Damon looks excited.

District Ten is dismal. When Blaise sees them his eyes bulge out of his head. A word comes out of his mouth that I thought he would never say. The girl is wearing a cow-hide dress while the boy wears slacks and a vest of the same material. They both look embarrassed to be seen in the outfits, and the crowd looks embarrassed for them.

District Eleven is kind of interesting. They wear corn husks. The girl wears a dress made out of them and the guy a suit. It's pretty interesting to me, but the Capitol crowd becomes quickly bored.

"What. The. Hell," Aurora hisses with a mystified expression. Aurora has good-looking tributes and they should have been dressed better.

District Twelve has the usual coal miner outfits, complete with a light on their helmet. I really want one of those, now that I think about it. The crowd doesn't even glance at them and Garl looks bored. He's seen it all too many times to count.

I've made a to-do list in my head.

Chariot rides. Check.

Killing the stylist. I'm going to work on that one.


	15. Training Days: Comfort

**The Mentors**

**_Chapter Fifteen_**

_Dara Valentine (D4)_

My tributes are beautiful. Nothing compared to me, of course, but putting them up against the other tributes in the looks department, the District riff-raff stands no chance. I've already got sponsors lined up and the Games haven't even began yet. Pearl is only thirteen, something the sponsors forget after a long night of partying, so it hasn't stopped them from deciding they want her to live.

Today is the first training day. I've spent the whole day pacing and worrying about how my tributes will do. Will they get in with the Careers? The suspense is _killing_ me. I can't even stay on our floor, I've walked across the lobby thousands of times in the last hour.

Marya, the escort, takes a break from examining her nails and reading a gossip rag to comfort me. "You should relax, _dahling_."

The urge to tear her throat out fills me up in the moment. Relax? At a time like this? I plaster on my charming smile and say something the woman might relate to, "Oh, I'm not nervous. Pacing burns calories and I want to lose three pounds."

Marya's face lights up and she chatters on about her long-fought war with weight. "I just want to be a size zero, you know? I've decided when I'm on vacation, I'll either get it all _sucked_ out or go on a food cleanse in a district."

Though my natural urge is to mock her for such ridiculous plans, I tell her those are _such good ideas_. Hey, we can't all be naturally slim and gorgeous. I might as well _encourage_ her so she doesn't become a lump of fat rolls.

After the conversation comes to an end which is tinged with awkwardness, I leave the room. Perhaps riding an elevator could be more stimulating than that conversation. Damon- I scowl at this- and the District Eight mentor enter the elevator right behind me.

"So, nervous about your tributes?" the Eight mentor wonders aloud with a sympathetic smile. "They're pretty young this year."

"They'll be fine," I reply coldly.

"Have I introduced myself?" she asks, sticking out a hand. I almost laugh thinking she didn't understand my tone, but her eyes tell me she's just pushing it for kicks. "I'm Quinn McKinney."

"District Eight," I say. From the moment you step on that stage, you're no longer your name to most. You're the girl from whatever District you belong to until the day you die.

Quinn nods. "And this is Damon Marx."

"We've met," I inform her, venomous smile firmly in place.

Damon and I fought at the chariot rides about our views on the Capitol. It ended with me calling him a mother fucking idiot and him telling me to go to hell. I haven't glanced at him since.

"Oh," Quinn looks down.

Damon glares at me. "Hey."

"Hi, fuck face," I say good-naturedly.

Quinn looks is aghast and Damon's eyes stare pointedly at the floor. I can tell he's furious though he doesn't say a word to me.

"That wasn't very nice," Quinn says slowly, uneasiness dripping for each word.

"I didn't intend it to be nice, Eight."

She laughs. "No one has called me Eight in a _long _time."

I can already tell Quinn is that person who tries to defuse uncomfortable situations with jokes and laughter. All I can say is, not going to work this time sweet cheeks.

"Oh." I end the conversation with the one syllable, and Quinn places a comforting hand on Damon's shoulder. He gives her a quick glance filled with appreciation and I roll my eyes dramatically. Friends are so disgustingly nice to each other sometimes. I exit the elevator on the fourth floor giving the two a quick, mocking wave over my shoulder.

The ocean styling of the floor calms me. Blue and seashells always did have that effect on me . . . which is exactly why it would be a perfect wedding theme, if a little cliche for District Four. By the time I open the door to my room, I've ruled it out. After thinking on it for a few seconds, it's a bucket full of cliche. Maybe for a nursery when the time comes though . . .

Pearl bounces into my arms the second I walk into the room, almost knocking me over with sheer excitement.

"I did it! I'm in!" Pearl exclaim, the grin stretching across her face so happy it looks painful.

"Even Barnie?" I ask dazedly.

I knew Pearl would get in. She's a thirteen-year old, but a skilled, strong, and completely ruthless thirteen-year old. Barnie, on the other hand, is pretty weak. He's fit enough, but not strong. His one saving grace is a secret talent of his that amazes even me. He can talk to you for only five minutes, and get the gist of your personality. It was his idea to trade acceptance into the Career pack for telling who is most likely to align with each other.

"He's in, too." Pearl answers loudly, laughing.

I laugh in amazement, spying Barnie finally making a cautious appearance. I direct my comment and beam at him over Pearl's shoulder. "That's wonderful!"

Barnie smiles at me shyly. "I'm happy if you're happy."

"So do you have the list yet?" I ask when Pearl goes to her room to change.

"Give me until tomorrow and I'll deliver," he replies quietly.

I ruffle his hair as I walk by. "You better hope you do."

The second day of training makes me more nervous than the day before. Barnie can't mess up now or he's done for. The District Two tributes will squash him like a bug if at the slightest error.

I know self-medicating isn't the smartest thing to do when most Victors who do that end up addicted, but for today, I don't give a _shit_. It makes me sleep for most of the day and Barnie and Pearl have been back for two hours when I wake. I plan to endorse the pills when asked what's my favorite vise one day.

The smiles on their faces make me fall into the nearest chair in relief right when I see them.

"He did it," Pearl says quietly with a grin. Barnie hands me a folded piece of paper. I unfold it and read:

_Gaze Benton (D1), Magnificent Richmond (D1), Zeke Maddox (D2), Anneliese Buckley (D2), Barnacle Greene (D4), and Pearl Moon (D4)._

_Pierce Meadows (D6), Maeve Faulkner (D6), Saffron Yang (D10), and Fern Carver (D10)._

_Zale McKay (D11), Laurel Farley (D11), and Iris Key (D5)._

_Anise Sampson (D12) and Sage Petty (D12)._

_Gage Nolan (D3), Harmony Blanchard (D3), and Forrest Gamble (D7)._

_Scout Santana (D8) and Jasmine Tillman (D9)._

_Loners:_

_Olive Battle (D7)_

_Clay Howe (D8)_

_Miles Sanford (D9)_

_Leo Church (D5)_

"Interesting," I murmur. "And you're sure?"

"Positive." Barnie gives me a details on the alliances, singling out the Elevens and Five girl as the biggest threat. "I've noticed a lot of tributes from the same District are teaming up."

I'm so happy my tributes are capable of living, the idea of comforting someone because they know for a fact, they're going to die is sickening to me. I grin at the two. "Everything is going to be okay now."

I sometimes wish I didn't have to worry at all for my tributes.

But, hey, it's the Hunger Games. It's not fun if you don't worry a little.

* * *

_Dexter Kane (D3)_

My tributes are in an alliance with the District Seven boy. Well, at least that's what I've heard. They talk to the escort mostly about what they're going to do and I listen. They give me betrayed looks from time to time at the dinner table, but I try not to let the glances get to me.

Today is the last training day, the escort told me so this morning. He also me I need to shape up or my tributes are going to die. But I knew they were going to die to begin with so it doesn't surprise or concern me.

I stare at a crack in the wall which probably won't be there the next time I come to the Capitol. It amuses me for some odd reason.

I eat later, not really tasting the food, though I'm sure it's fantastic. The Capitol expects nothing less from its cooks. I look over a letter Diana sent me. She tells me the midwife thinks the baby will be here in a weeks time. It only makes my mood go south. I write out hasty reply and the escort is happy to mail it for me.

I only feel more dejected as the day goes on. The closer I get to the Games, the less connected I feel toward the real world. Harmony and Gage show up as I am contemplating this. They tell me about their day. I nod from time to time to make it look like I'm listening, but their words make one big jumble in my mind. They leave satisfied though.

Maybe I was actually able to give them a small amount of comfort before they die.


	16. Training Scores: Worry

**The Mentors**

_**Chapter Sixteen**_

_Ronny Pied (D5)_

The training scores will be announced in thirty minutes. I think I'm really about to piss myself, I'm so nervous. I'm almost positive Leo already has. He doesn't even think he'll get past the bloodbath at this point. Iris did think that way early on, but an alliance with the Elevens- I heard it was actually Zale's idea, but I remember him having a little sister so I'm not _too_ surprised- changed her mind.

Leo wasn't able to align himself with another person and I fear for the boy's sanity. From his babbling earlier today, he's never been alone in his life and doesn't think he can take the idea of being by himself.

Iris won't even look at me anymore, she thinks it's unfair to Leo if I know her better. Deep down, I think it is too but I can't help being a little more protective of her than I am of the boy. My tributes and I all sit on the couch, while our escort sits with ankles crossed in a chair.

The news seems to drag on for hours and replays of the chariot rides are on every channel. I don't want to watch _that_ horror again so I switch to the "Capitol News," which is _very_ entertaining.

"Tonight the training scores will be announced! Remember to watch because the scores sometimes change the Games!" The news lady squeals. Her appearance is horrifying and I have the irrational urge to cover my tributes' eyes.

"She's a _looker_," Iris remarks dryly. Daniella, the escort, glares when Leo and I burst into laughter.

"She is _very_ stylish," Daniella reprimands, nose high in the air.

"On what planet?" Leo mocks.

Daniella doesn't reply, choosing to ignore us commoners. I smile, and it's only a second later when the scores begin to dance along the screen. My smile quickly disappears.

Magnificent Richmond from District One scores a seven. I can imagine her disappointment at the lower than usual for a Career number. Her district partner, Gaze Benton, gets an eight. I'm sure Ivo will be mildly pleased with number.

Anneliese Buckley scores a ten and her district partner, Zeke Maddox, gets the same score. I can almost see the furious and competitive glares Anneliese and Zeke are probably giving each other right now. Clubb should be happy but . . . what the hell, I have no idea when it comes to the bastard.

Harmony Blanchard gets a four and her district partner, Gage Nolan, a two. I guess there's two ways to look at it: you really have no fucking chance or the Careers don't see you as a threat. Dexter won't even know what's going on.

Pearl Moon scores an eight and her partner, Barnacle Greene, a five. I raise an eyebrow, looking at both Isis and Leo in confusion. I don't think I've ever seen a Career score that low before. Pearl will be happy, though Barnacle will be slamming his head into the wall repeatedly. Dara will probably have mixed emotions on the scores.

I gulp at what I know is coming next. My tributes. Iris gets a six, we all pat her on the back for getting such a high score since she's so small. Leo gets a five, and he scowls but we congratulate him anyway. I'm actually pleased.

District Six tributes don't do so hot. Maeve Faulkner gets a four, while Pierce Meadows gets a one. I, personally, would be horrified but maybe they're just faking badness..? I can't imagine Lilac being happy.

The scores go on but I barely pay attention. Iris is going to go far with the protection of the older Eleven tributes.

Leo though . . . not so much.

* * *

_Quinn McKinney (D8)_

I really don't care. As they go through the scores of the first six districts those are the words that flash in my mind every damn second. I do pay attention to District Six's because I like Lilac, I wish I hadn't though. Those kids are dead meat.

"Are you even watching?" Scout asks petulantly, what seems to be a permanent scowl on her face.

"A little bit."

"District Seven is getting their scores," Clay informs me.

I look up to see Olive Battle getting an eight. Forrest Gamble gets a four. I'd be pleased if I was Olive, while if I was Forrest, I'd be pissed off. Hazel doesn't really care about Forrest, from what I can tell, so she should be happy.

It's my district now and I look on in mild horror. Scout gets a three and Clay, a five. They both look sad and I'm pretty disappointed with their low scores, I have to admit, though I shouldn't have expected anything else from them. They aren't the most skilled in . . . well _any_ area.

I'm pretty interested by District Nine. Damon has quickly became a very good friend. Jasmine Tillman gets a one and Miles Sanford get a three. I can almost hear the rant now . . .

District Ten's girl tribute, Fern Carver, gets a six, which isn't that bad. Saffron gets a five. Blaise won't be _too_ pleased, but it's pretty good.

District Eleven's tributes just _look_ like they'll get good scores. They're both older and, other than the Careers, the most intimidating tributes in the competition. Laurel gets a nine. A freakin' _nine_. I didn't even score that high when I was a tribute. Zale McKay gets an eight, which is _exceptional_ for District Eleven. Aurora will be _extremely_ happy.

District Twelve has the usual Seam tributes so I'm not sure they'll do good. Anise Sampson gets a six and Sage Petty gets a three. That's pretty good for Anise, though she doesn't look that strong. Garl will be okay with the scores, I'm sure.

I smile at my tributes, but they still don't look happy.

"Those District Eleven tributes," Scout trails off. "Wow. That girl got better than the District One boy!"

"Yep," I reply. "She's a force to be reckoned with."

Clay doesn't speak for the rest of the night and Scout marvels over the other tributes scores. I worry about them both as we eat. Will they even get past the bloodbath? I thought they both would, but now . . .

I'm so scared for them.


	17. Mentoring for Interviews: Angle

**The Mentors**

_**Chapter Seventeen**_

_Aurora Fairchild (D11)_

Tonight the interviews are going to be held. And the next day, twenty-four kids will be thrown into the arena. Today, though, I must help my tributes figure out what they angle they'll use to their advantage tonight. Funny, nice, charming, confident, sarcastic, or humble?

For right now though my tributes have found a ball. I don't know where exactly they found it, but they did. They play catch with each other and laugh and trading insults when one drops it. Fluffy decides she wants to play, at one point, and both Laurel and Zale laugh.

"You don't think I have game?" Fluffy demands, hands on her hips. This, naturally, just makes them both laugh harder.

Zale tosses it to her lightly and she continues to drop it, despite the two trying to give her pointers.

"I don't know what to do with my hands," she laments, just in time for the ball to smack her in the face.

Laurel rolls her eyes. "Here's an idea: catch the ball."

Fluffy decides playing catch just isn't her things and I realize I have to bust my tributes pretty little bubble, "It's time for you two to get mentored for the interviews."

"Five more minutes. _Please_?" Zale begs. I smile, because he sounds like a little ten-year old that doesn't want to go to bed.

I shake my head and they both sigh. "Zale you go with Fluffy, Laurel you come with me."

"Great," Zale says, rolling his eyes.

"I'm _sure_ you'll have fun," Laurel says, voice dripping with sarcasm. Zale gives her a disgruntled look and she smiles. Fluffy and Zale walk away as Laurel and I sit down.

"So, what are we going to talk about again?" Laurel asks, examining her nails.

"Your interview angle," I tell her, snapping to get her attention off of her slightly bitten nails.

"What do you suggest?" she drawls.

"Sarcastic and confident," I say.

"That took a lot of thought, didn't it?" she asked with an arched eyebrow.

"You'll be perfect," I reply. "Just be yourself."

"Is that all?" she asks after a moment of silence.

I think. "Well, pretty much . . . yeah."

"Well, isn't this _boring_?" she says. "How long do you think Fluffy and Zale are going to take?"

"Maybe an hour or two, for some it takes longer but I think Zale's refined enough."

"Damn," she mutters.

There is a long silence. There's something that has been bothering me since the reaping and I don't know how to put it. Since she didn't ally with the Careers, it kind of confuses me to as why she volunteered.

"Why'd you volunteer?" I ask, the words blurting from my mouth.

She stares at me for a second in shock before looking at her hands. "I wasn't _planning_ on volunteering, that's for sure. It was just . . . when Calli got reaped, I didn't think. I just saw how young she looked and I heard crying and yelling. I mean, it happens every reaping, _someone _reacts. For the past few years, it's been older tributes, so it didn't bother me as much. But all I could think about as she was walking up was how I had a much better chance than she did. So . . . I did it."

"Have you told Zale this?" I ask after a moment of processing this.

"Yes," she says quietly.

"What did he say?"

"Nothing, just looked at me for a second before vanishing into his lair," Laurel replies, pointing to Zale's room.

Zale bursts through the doorway with an accomplished grin and plops down beside Laurel. She smiles, though she looks confused as hell. "It's only been thirty minutes. How could you, the person who doesn't understand how to eat without staining your clothes in ten places, be done that quickly?"

His grin widens. "Didn't you know? I'm a gentleman at heart."

Fluffy walks in. "Your turn, Laurel."

"Oh, _goody_," Laurel hisses and follows Fluffy back out the door.

"Your interview angle will be charming and nice," I tell him. "They're going to ask you about your sister, and about how you feel towards Laurel for volunteering. Do you know what you'll say?"

Zale pauses. "I think I'll just wing it, you know. Let whatever comes out, come out."

I don't want his words to sound rehearsed by practicing, but I also don't want him winging it. I just decide to let him do what he wants for right now. "Other than that, we're done."

"You think there's any food left?" Zale asks.

"There's always food left."

He gets up and starts to approach the kitchen. "Yay."

"You're going to get fat!" I call.

"It would be a welcome change from usual," he calls back.

So . . . that's done with. I have to admit, they are surprisingly easy to deal with. In every way, actually.

I don't want them to be . . . because only one, if either, can come out but I know, without a doubt, they're my favorites.

* * *

_Clubb Paige (D2)_

Anneliese and Zeke don't need my help figuring out what angle they're doing for their interviews. They are both brutal, blood-thirsty creatures and that will be their angle. That was my angle, and if it works for me, it should for them too. I shake my head. I need to focus on the tributes and not on my Games. It'll only make me hate them more.

Anneliese attacks a steak in the corner while Zeke is with the escort. I want to steal it from her, but I begrudgingly let her keep it.

After she finishes her steak, Anneliese harasses an Avox. She orders him to talk and laughs cruelly when he can't. She does it to all the Avoxes that come through the room doing their daily chores. All I hear for the next hour is garbled attempts at speech and malicious laughter.

"Get the fuck out of here," Anneliese hisses from the kitchen.

I glare as Annelieses sprawls across the couch on the other side of the room from me. The escort enters and Zeke smiles evilly at me when he comes in after her. Anneliese follows the escort out with a huff, giving Zeke a glare that would kill. At this point, if they don't kill each other before the arena, it'll be a miracle.

I don't talk to Zeke or look at him, he enrages me with his ability to kill people without getting in trouble. They both do. I like Anneliese more for her cruel ways. Zeke is a brute, yes, but he's just a trained killer. Anneliese is an _evil_, trained killer. She would torture people for days if she could. Peel their skin off slowly and keep them alive for as long as possible so they could feel agony every second of it.

I angrily realize Anneliese and I are alike in more ways that I want to admit.


	18. The Interviews: Broadcast

**The Mentors**

**_Chapter Eighteen_**

_Ivo Wright (D1)_

I am silent, as usual, while waiting for the interviews to start. Some mentors give me a curious glance or two, most notably the quiet one with red hair, but don't attempt conversation. Probably worried I'll think they're trying to mock me.

Mentoring my tributes has been pure hell mostly because they look down on me for being mute. They act like they've been cheated out of a _real_ mentor and whine about it every damned chance they get.

From the conversations I've heard between Magnificent and Gaze, the boy from Four is a genius and that's what got him into the Career pack. I've also heard that he knows all the alliances, though I haven't weaseled out of the two which tributes make up each alliance.

All I know is the Career pack is formed by the usual districts. The girl from Eleven was offered a spot, but declined to join. Now she has a _huge_ target on her back. That's _really_ all I know, kind of sad, now that I think about it. Maggie and Gaze don't like to tell me things, or talk to me in general. Stupid, arrogant tributes.

The interviews are to begin in about five minutes and I can tell you that I hope my tributes bomb at them. It has the potential to give me an odd, sort of sick, pleasure. They've ruined my first attempt at mentoring and I probably won't be allowed to mentor again. Ever.

To be honest, though, if all my tributes will be like this, I'm not so sure I _want_ to mentor again.

The interviews start and dear Maggie is called up to sit by Cassius O'Donnel, the interviewer. "Hello, Magnificent! How are you?"

"Simply _wonderful_, Cassius."

"So, Maggie, can I call you Maggie?" Cassius asks, and Maggie nods. "You share the name of the winner of the ninth Hunger Games. Think it's fate?"

"I'm my own person, Cassius, and I don't believe in that kind of stuff. I'll win and it'll be in my own special way, not like that hag from Four."

Most of the mentors share looks of disbelief with one another. The first rule of being a Victor; stick up for other Victors. You might hate them, and they might be despicable human beings, but they're the only ones in this world who have a chance of understanding.

"So, Maggie, how do you justify making a seven? That's pretty low for a Career."

Maggie's face turns blood red and she visibly grinds her teeth together. "The Gamemakers must've not been in their right minds when they scored me. That's the only possibility."

Insulting the Gamemakers is also a no-no.

Cassius nods disbelievingly. "Well, your time is about up, Maggie. Anything you'd like to add?"

"To that idiot who refused to join the Careers; your time is almost up. I'll kill you with my bare hands." Magnificent's buzzer rings, but it's barely heard over from the laughter coming from the District Eleven girl. Maggie shoots her a glare and Gaze joins Cassius on the couch.

"Gaze Benton! What an interesting name! Why'd your parents name you that?" Cassius asks with gusto.

"My dad says from the moment he first gazed upon my mother, he was in love. So I guess it's appropriate." Some Capitol women swoon, and I have a good mental laugh. Some of the more extroverted mentors- Hazel and Dara mainly- mock his words by gagging.

"Aw! How sweet!" Cassius coos. "So how do you think you'll do in the Games?"

"I'm going to win."

"So you made an eight in training, correct?" Cassius asks.

"Yes."

"That's a great score!" Cassius exclaims, applauding and the audience quickly follows suit. "Any last words?"

"Bet on me." Gaze walks away to a good amount of applause.

District Two comes next. She wears a silver dress that falls to her knees that the Capitol seems to like. I note that she's oddly beautiful when she isn't grimacing. Anneliese is attempting a smile as she sits beside Cassius, it's unnatural and looks painful, but it's better than the grimace.

"Anneliese Buckley everyone!" Cassius yells and the crowd applauds. "Doesn't she look _stunning_?"

"I won't for long," Anneliese hisses, entirely giving up on the smiling and reverting back to her usual expression.

"Why not, dear?"

"Let's see how stunning I will be with the blood and gore of these pathetic tributes all over me," she says with a sinister smile. I see some- _most_- of the tributes shake in their seats. Zeke, though I can hint wariness in his eyes, looks murderous at her clearly terrifying display. The Elevens are doing their best to ignore Anneliese's horrific words by conversing quietly with one another, but they're both clearly unnerved by the younger girl.

"That's . . . very optimistic," Cassius replies, looking like his greatest wish is to be far, far away from Anneliese.

"It's only the truth," Anneliese says simply. Cassius just nods with raised eyebrows and Anneliese's buzzer rings. I can almost see the interviewer sigh in relief.

Zeke Maddox is horrifying, as most District Two tributes are. The District Three tributes, Harmony and Gage, are horribly bland. District Four gets a very _long_ applause, the Capitol loves them for their looks. District Five, Iris and Leo, are nice but not memorable. District Six was a disaster. Pierce began crying on stage and the girl, Maeve, had no personality whatsoever.

I just bury my head in my hands for them all and hope I'll never have to see the interviews up close again.

* * *

_Damon Marx (D9)_

The first six districts go by fast to me. Maybe it's the anxiety for my tributes, but I know I should be making more of an effort. The Olive, the Seven girl, is dressed in a green dress the crowd seems to like on her. I've heard enough about the boy, Forrest to remember his name. He tells Cassius that his mentor hates him and Hazel nods fervently in in agreement with such statement.

District Eight is slightly lacking in deep emotion but funny. Scout acts scared most of the time, a play for sponsors with pity. Clay lays on a load of horrible puns that make the Capitol roll their eyes but most of the Victors laugh raucously.

My district doesn't do as well as I hoped they would. Jasmine is as sweet and cute as I had hoped she would be, while Miles hatred of the Capitol is clearly seen by his glares and sly insults.

District Ten is okay. Fern is nice and plays up her optimistic attitude, while being completely likeable. Saffron is quieter than he should be and Cassius has to pry his hardest to get anything out of him.

District Eleven is great. Zale is a naturally funny person and it shows from the laughter heard throughout the building. Laurel easily pulls off the heavy sarcasm with resounding success. Near the end of the interview she makes a stinging remark towards Magnificient's warning. I spy Gaze placing a restraining hand on Magnificient's shoulder in the corner.

District Twelve is a bit too sappy for my tastes, but the Capitol seems very sympathetic despite that it's their fault for all of this in the first place. They talk about their younger siblings and how they have to win because of them. Anise comments that nothing matters but them, and Sage agrees wholeheartedly with the statement in his interview.

Cassius closes the program with a promise that this will be the best Games ever and to tune into tomorrow for the beginning of the Games. Some mentors stop to exchange a few words, while others quickly go to their tributes.

I go to my tributes, to give them some last pieces of advice on how to get through this horrible thing they'll be forced into, starting tomorrow morning.


	19. The Night Before

**The Mentors_  
_**

_**Chapter Nineteen**  
_

_Magnificent "Maggie" Richmond (D1)_

Laurel Farley will die. Tomorrow, if I can manage it.

That bitch. She embarrassed me in front of the whole Capitol and she's going to pay for it. She's going to die by my own hands, I won't allow it any other way.

If I could think of anything more at the moment, I _might _be worried about tomorrow. Probably not, though. I'm a Career. A strong, intelligent, hot District One Career, who is going to win.

Everything has always worked out great for me before? Why should now be any different?

* * *

_Gaze Benton (D1)_

I really can't believe Maggie. That idiot. She's going to get herself killed if she doesn't watch it. Threatening the Eleven girl like that without any warning . . .

Anneliese and Zeke were so pissed off. If she doesn't get herself killed by attacking the Eleven girl, I just know Anneliese will kill her.

I'm not sure why I feel so protective of Maggie, but I can't deny that I don't want her dead.

For fuck's sake, is she an _idiot_?

* * *

_Anneliese Buckley (D2)_

They're all going to die, of course. From those weak twelve-year olds to the oldest tributes in the competition. Every member of the Career pack. Even Zeke, when I get around to him.

I'm very tempted to keep Zeke alive long enough to help me with the Elevens, despite the anger I feel when he's around. Laurel is a Career in every way except her alliance choice so I figure it will be easier to kill off the two annoyances with Zeke's help.

I think I might actually be a tad sorry when I kill the Elevens and Zeke. What will I do with myself in the arena when my two biggest threats are gone..?

Such a sad, boring thought.

* * *

_Zeke Maddox (D2)_

I have to win.

I have to win for Aurelia and for my mom. I have to win, go home, and murder my father. I have to get my mom some help, I have to see Aurelia smile again.

I know Clubb doesn't think I'm smart. I know everyone thinks I'm just a typical monster from Two. But I'm the smartest tribute in this competition, honestly.

I've fooled them all.

* * *

_Harmony Blanchard (D3)_

Tomorrow I will die.

Death is imminent. I might have had a chance if my mentor actually gave a fuck, but he doesn't so I'm screwed. Gage doesn't have a chance either, so at the very least I won't be alone in my death.

Twenty-two others will die right along with me.

All I can think of as I lay down to sleep is of my family and the first time I kissed Bolt.

Soon dreams, push it out of my head.

* * *

_Gage Nolan (D3)_

I'm going to die in the bloodbath, I just know it.

My little sister, Halo, will have to watch me die.

I'm sure it will be quick, they always are in the bloodbath. Quick, but still painful. Quick, but still painful for Halo and my mother to watch.

I cry myself to sleep, feeling pathetic, but not able to stop.

* * *

_Pearl Moon (D4)_

I'm going to win. I might be young, but that doesn't mean I can't beat Anneliese and all those other tributes. I could kill half the Career pack if I wanted to. Barnie, Magnificent, and Gaze.

I don't know if I could bring myself to kill Barnie. He's like a weak, older brother to me. Magnificient's an idiotic bitch, it would be my pleasure to kill her. Gaze is okay, if a bit quiet.

I'll have to kill them all if I want to win. And I do. More than anything in the world.

* * *

_Barnacle "Barnie" Greene (D4)_

I don't think I'm going to win. I don't think it's a possibility unless everyone dies in a freak accident that leaves me a winner in the first five minutes. If only.

Do you know what it's like to know you are going to die? Not exactly _when_, but _soon_. Very, very soon. Within the week, most likely.

I might be smart, but I'll be the first Career to go if it comes down to it. I wish it wasn't this way, but it is.

Better to face the facts, I guess, than to hide behind near impossibilities.

* * *

_Iris Key (D5)_

I don't want to die. You're going to die.

No, I'm not. Yes, you am.

I will win. You can't.

My family needs me. Your family will be better off without you.

Laurel and Zale will protect me. Laurel and Zale will kill you.

I can't lose. You're going to lose.

Why do I have to die? You just have to, idiot, accept it already.

I don't want to, though. Well, too bad.

Voices war in my head. I don't know what to believe.

* * *

_Leo Church (D5)_

I don't even remember the last time I felt this drunk. I'm going to have a _killer_ hangover. I let out a guffaw. Killer hangover. As the words repeat in my mind, I don't find it so funny anymore.

If I'm going to _die _tomorrow_.  
_

I haven't felt this great in a while, but is it worth it? I'm pretty much wasting my chance by doing this, aren't I?

Oh . . .

I think I'm going to be sick.

* * *

_Maeve Faulkner (D6)_

Do I care anymore? I have no one to go home for, I'm an orphan. I have no purpose in life, so what's the use in living it? Why does it matter who wins and who loses?

No one wins, even if you do get out alive. I've asked Lilac and she says most of the time, she wishes she would have died instead of live like she does.

So why does it matter?

* * *

_Pierce Meadows (D6)_

I'm not like Pearl or Iris, they have a pretty good chance for being so young. I don't have a chance in hell and, yes, my mother wood get on for me swearing, but at this moment I don't really care.

Some of the older tributes are probably saying a lot worse.

At least the older ones might get sponsors.

I won't.

Not now, or ever.

* * *

_Olive Battle (D7)_

Damn it.

It's hard for me, maybe even more for the other tributes, because I know I have a chance. And that puts more pressure on me. I'm expected to do well, but what if I don't live up to everyone's expectations?

That might be the wrong way of thinking.

Either way, I'm pretty sure I'm not going to die tomorrow.

...Pretty sure.

* * *

_Forrest Gamble (D7)_

Hazel's a bitch. A big, fat bitch who needs to learn to keep her fucking mouth shut.

I'm going to _win_. And then rub it in her ugly face that I beat the odds. I'm going to make her life hell.

Oh, yes, Hazel's biggest mistake was never believing in me.

* * *

_Scout Santana (D8)_

Young. You're too young.

When you're thirteen it's almost impossible to win. It's been done, yes, but very rarely.

My ally, Jasmine, has even less of a chance. She's only twelve. I hope she makes it past the bloodbath with me, so I don't have to be alone.

I hate being alone, I've never been alone in my whole life, but now I feel alone. I feel like no one is on my side. It's a new feeling.

I don't like it.

* * *

_Clay Howe (D8)_

Life sucks when you're chubby in the Districts. People envy you for being well fed when they are starving, and others just make fun of you because you're "fat."

The Careers smirk at me because of it, the Twelve tributes look at me in awe, and the rest just don't look at me.

For some reason, being chubby is all that occupies my mind right now. I don't know why, being as I might die tomorrow, but it's okay if I die.

I just don't want to be remembered as the chubby kid from Eight.

* * *

_Jasmine Tillman (D9)_

I can't die tomorrow.

I don't see how anyone could kill a twelve-year old? It's insane, isn't it, to think of someone murdering a twelve-year old in cold blood and not even getting in trouble for it?

They get celebrated for the kills they make, even if it is a youngster like me.

It's insane, and I wish I didn't have any part of it.

* * *

_Miles Sanford (D9)_

Why am I here?

The Capitol.

I hate them. They put me here, ordered my death, and that is unforgivable.

I will never forgive them as I long as I live, and I'll admit, that's probably not much longer.

The escort pulled my name out of the bowl, but I'll forgive her. I can't have too many grudges against people when I die. Only the Capitol.

They will never be forgiven.

* * *

_Fern Carver (D10)_

I can't give a good answer as to why I'm here at his moment, pacing around my room, while I _should _be getting some sleep. Maybe it's because I'm a dumb ass and I don't understand the necessity of sleep, that could be it, but I don't think so.

I can't explain the grand scheme of things, because I don't have enough brain power right now. But I think I was meant to be here, but I can't decide if I'm meant to win or be a bloodbath.

What am I meant to be?

* * *

_Saffron Yang (D10)_

I write a note to my family.

They told me to do it before, but I don't like doing anything until the last minute.

I say goodbye to my Ganny, Mama, Father, Cicily, Herder, and Emilie.

Emilie.

I remember her soft, brown hair, and her doe-like green eyes.

I can't help but forget, if only for a moment, that I'm going to die.

Because Emilie has always made me forget bad things that have happened. She makes me think of the good things that could happen in the future.

* * *

_Laurel Farley (D11)_

I can't believe myself right now.

How can I be feeling anything right now except for scared? But I'm not scared for myself. No, I do not think I will die tomorrow. I am afraid for Zale.

He has a sister and a mother that are dependent on him. All I have is a mother and father that could move on easily if I died.

So why should I live? I have no one to live for, except . . . _perhaps_ . . . Locust.

Zale has so many more people than me. Why should I live when he has more people that would be effected by his death?

I don't want to die, do I?

Yeah, I don't feel scared. I feel confused as hell.

* * *

_Zale McKay (D11)_

Calli.

My Calli. My mother. I have to win for them. But can I? Laurel, Aurora, and Iris think I can. They reassure me that I am indeed skilled enough to win.

But I don't feel very confident.

I try not to think of anything.

I'm actually able to get it all out of my head and drift off to sleep.

What I don't understand is why, the night before I will be thrown into the arena, all I can dream about is blonde hair?

* * *

_Anise Sampson (D12)_

Oh, gosh. Why do I have such a vivid imagination?

First, I'm beheaded, then sliced up, then shot in the head, poisoned, and finally eaten by Anneliese- I wouldn't put it passed the bitch.

I'm freaking myself out. I swear I'm going to piss on myself if I don't stop.

I finally drift into a fitful, yet satisfying, sleep.

* * *

_Sage Petty (D12)_

All you're doing is psyching yourself out. Don't worry. You aren't going to die tomorrow.

All I want to be able to say is that I got past the first day. For my family. That's all I want.

Well, I want to live too- who doesn't?- but I think that's very well near impossible.

So I will get past the first day for my family.

Hopefully.


	20. Massacre

**The Mentors_  
_**

_**Chapter Twenty**  
_

_**Day One; Part One**_

_Damon Marx (D9)_

I told them not to worry. But I know they didn't listen.

The plates lift on the screen and the tributes' scared faces and shaking bodies are all that I see. I look away, I think for only a second but it must be longer, because the escort tells me it has started.

The tributes are off, running to the Cornucopia. It makes me feel sick but my eyes are glued to the screen. Those are my tributes up there and if they are going to die I want to see it.

Miles immediately leaves by himself because he was unable to get an ally. He is unharmed, thank Panem. I let out a pent up breath and look for my other tribute, Jasmine.

She is in an alliance with Scout, the girl from Eight. They meet up and share smiles and start to run off together . . .

Before a spear enters Jasmine's neck. Her eyes widen in surprise matched by Scout's eyes. Scout flees into the forest as Jasmine falls. Jasmine tries to take her last breaths through blood, but only makes a gurgling noise. Her eyes roll back into her head.

Anneliese comes and retrieves the spear from her, cutting Jasmine's time in half. She has a malicious smile on her face and goes off to search for more kills.

Jasmine is dead. My tribute is _dead_.

I sink back into my chair, not realizing I had stood up, and feel as if there is no more hope left in the world.

I try to remind myself that Miles is alive but it doesn't help one bit.

* * *

_Ronny Pied (D5)_

The District Nine girl is barely dead before the camera switches to other tributes.

Iris was fine the last time it showed her, she was fighting alongside the Elevens. The girl hasn't killed and I don't think she will any time soon.

I haven't seen Leo, though, and it's starting to worry me. I search for him in the twisting limbs and flying weapons.

I finally catch a glance of him, he is looking around. He looks slightly confused and I yell at him, trying to get him to run. But he just stands there. He doesn't know what to do, he doesn't know where to go.

I let out a hoarse scream as a spear enters his leg. He falls with a shout of pain. Before I know it, Anneliese is standing over him.

"You deserve to die," Anneliese whispers before pulling her spear from Leo's leg. Leo begs for a few seconds and then Anneliese puts a small dagger she had been hiding right between his eyes.

I scream at her through the TV, calling her awful names. The escort tries to calm me down, but my mind won't relax.

I should have known I was never going to be calm during these Games.

* * *

_Dexter Kane (D3)_

The Games begin.

Two tributes die before I can even think about where mine are. I see Harmony run into the forest that surrounds the Cornucopia.

Good. At least _she's_ not dead.

"Look, Dexter!" the escort screams and holds his hand over his mouth in an expression of shock. Gage is locked in a fight with Zeke Maddox.

He's a goner. Zeke knocks him down just as the thought flashes into my mind. Blood trickles from Gage's mouth and nose. Zeke beheads him with a shiny, short sword.

"No," the escort moans and moves into the corner of the room. "This can't be happening."

"It is," I answer brokenly, surprised at the extreme sadness in my voice.

I didn't know the escort and Gage were as close as the tears falling down the escort's face seem to hint they were.

"I wanted to escort the District One tributes! Now I never will!" he sobs.

I don't say a word, I just punch him.

I don't hit him again but wish I could. Over and over again.

I didn't know I was attached to them. I should have done something, should have helped them in some way.

I realize something.

I _care_.

* * *

_Blaise Calder (D10)_

Death. It makes me want to curl up onto the cot and sleep. Sleep through the Games, through this whole experience. I shouldn't have to do this. I'm should be home, with my family and Nova.

The girl from Nine dies and I retch as blood spurts from her neck.

The District Five boy goes next. That hag from District Two puts a knife between his eyes and I have to restrain myself from marching to the District Two control room and telling Clubb that he has mentored a monster and use a bunch of expletives.

Then I remember it's Clubb and will likely result in my death.

The District Three boy gets in a fight with Zeke and the Career quickly overpowers him. Zeke chops Gage's head off.

I can no longer contain myself. I vomit in the garbage can in the corner.

What is wrong with me? I've seen it all before.

I saw plenty of death in my Games. Most of the deaths of my allies were terrible and bloody. I shiver to think of them and faces run through my mind. Hush, Bellator, Merritt, Jesseray. The last face that flashes is the most painful to see.

Bonnie. The one who died for me.

"Blaise, are you okay?" the escort asks.

"No. No, I'm not."

"I wouldn't be bothering you but . . ."

"What?" I bark.

"It's Saffron."

I whip around and see Anneliese looming over him. She pulls out a small dart and jabs it into his neck. Saffron looks up at her and whimpers.

She smiles down at him cruelly. "There's poison on that. Have fun dying."

Saffron's eyes pop out of his head and he looks around. It seems as though he's trying to find a loop hole, something to stop his death.

I watch, my face scrunched up in pain. The poison begins to take affect and he screams. I close my eyes and wish the mentor broadcasting system could go on mute.

But it doesn't, I hear his screams grow farther apart and with less intensity.

I open my eyes.

With his last breath, he whispers, but I cannot hear.

Then his eyes close and I know he is dead.

* * *

_Lilac Parrish (D6)_

The worst death I can imagine ever happening in a bloodbath plays out before my eyes. The slow deaths usually come later in the Games, when the crazy bitches are out to play.

Maeve immediately went off when the gong sounded. She didn't get anything from the Cornucopia and I wonder how she will survive worriedly.

She is in an alliance with Fern, the District Ten girl, and Pierce, my other tribute. Saffron was in the alliance, but he's dead so that's not going to really work out.

Pierce is grabbing a backpack. The backpack will be easy to camouflage, being brown and a dull blue color-

The District Two boy decides to kill him.

The sword slices Pierce's stomach and the District Two boy pulls it out before I can blink, running off to do more killing.

Pierce. He was only thirteen.

The blood spilling out of him is as red as his hair. His blue eyes are scrunched up in pain.

I don't want to remember him like this. I want to remember his blue eyes sparkling after a joke and his nervous smile. But I won't be able to. He will haunt me and look exactly like this.

I cry for him even though I've been through this pain so many times.

I feel pathetic because it's the only thing I can do.

* * *

_Quinn McKinney (D8)_

I feel like the bloodbath might be the easiest time to die. It might be the bloodiest part of the Games, but it brings quick deaths. I feel so sorry for Saffron that it hurts. He shouldn't have died like that. Anneliese is a monster.

"Damn," I mutter. "Damn, damn, damn, damn."

How in the hell is this entertaining? Who the fuck thought of this?

Clay tries to tiptoe away but stealth is a skill he has yet to master.

The little District Four girl stabs him in the back repeatedly before he senses her presence. She prances away to find more prey.

Clay lays there, gasping, trying to live. Fighting to live even though he has no hope. He dies before I can wrap my mind around the idea.

"Is this entertaining to you?" I hiss at the escort.

He doesn't react, just stares at the screen with a blank expression.

"Does it hurt when you get to know them and then you have to watch them die? Does it affect you? Because it affects me, you asshole, it affects that kid's mom and dad. They will cry for him and never get over his death. They will be broken. And what will you do? You'll go and get your fucking nails done. You're pathetic."

I lay in my cot and the escort exits.

Great.

Now I can sob without anyone hearing.

* * *

_Garland "Garl" Riggs (D12)_

So far, six children have died.

The bloodbath is still not over and at least another will die. Anise has went into the surrounding forest, but Sage is still scrounging for a back pack. If he hasn't got one by now, he's not going to.

"C'mon Sage, get outta there already!" I mutter.

Sage apparently hears my command because he turns to go. Well, at least he tries to turn.

Gaze Benton sends a mace into his brain and it's all over for him. I close my eyes and let out a sigh. I thought he would have lasted longer than that. I don't know what to do so I write.

I write letters, specifically. To Sage's family, to my wife, to Anise's family, one to each of my children, and I write a letter to myself.

The letter to myself is for me to read when Anise dies, if she does, so I won't feel as powerless. This is what I have done for the last twenty-eight years after the bloodbath.

I write away my frustrations and my pain.

But they always come back.

* * *

_Ivo Wright (D1)_

Gaze killed the Twelve boy. I'm not happy for him, but at least he has shown his worth to the Careers.

Magnificent has yet to kill and seems to be hunting for someone. My guess, the Eleven girl.

Laurel hasn't left yet, her allies wait on the fringes of the forest, but she is determined to get a weapon. She eyes the bow and arrows the most.

Magnificent finds her. My tribute laughs and jumps on the girl, but Magnificent has forgotten an important tool in her killing. A weapon.

Why do I have to mentor the biggest idiot in the arena?

They fight it out for the longest time it seems, rolling around on the ground. The other Careers don't come to help, still dealing with their own prey.

Laurel finally gets the upper hand and is able to grab a knife and jam it down Magnificient's throat.

The Eleven girl sighs before climbing off the dying girl. She grabs the bow and arrows from the Cornucopia and joins her alliance before the group runs into the forest.

Well, my tribute is dead.

But it's not my fault.

It's hers for being a damned fool.

* * *

_Aurora Fairchild (D11)_

The bloodbath is over.

Eight have died and the cannons sound for all of them. The alliances, or what's left of them, try to find each other and get as far away from the Careers as they can.

The Careers come back to the Cornucopia and sneer at the District One girl's body. Other than the Four boy, she was the weakest Career, and the only one who seems to mourn her loss in her district partner, which isn't unusual. They begin to inventory the Cornucopia's supplies.

It shows Maeve, the District Six girl, and Fern, the Ten girl, walking through the forest and frowning at their meager supplies. They have a stick of meat and a small canteen of water. No weapons.

Next comes Harmony, the Three girl, and Forrest, the Seven that Hazel hates, walking through a field and approaching tall mountains. They have four bottles of water, but no food. A small knife is their only weapon and Forrest holds it like a kid with a new toy. Forrest has his usual chatter going, but Harmony ignores him for the most part.

It updates us on the surviving loners. Scout, Olive, Miles, and Anise are all in varying locations. The only one with a weapon is Olive, and she wields her axe with a sad and wistful expression. All have one canteen of water and Miles has a piece of bread.

It shows my tributes and Iris walking through the forest.

Laurel is bloodstained from the killing of the One girl. Zale is glancing at Laurel, opening his mouth but closing it without saying a word, and Iris sighs periodically. Zale has a knife and Laurel a bow and arrows. They have a backpack with two sleeping bags, but no food or water.

Laurel breaks the silence with, "Stupid District One bitch. She got her blood all over me and tore out a piece of my hair. How rude is that?"

Iris rolls his eyes and Zale gives her a skeptical look. Laurel sighs, "She attacked me. It's her fault."

She seems to be trying to convince herself of the fact. No one notices it at first, but tears are running down her face.

Zale and Iris share a wide-eyed glance. Zale goes to her with his arms extended, like he is going to hug her, but she waves him off.

"It's nothing," she murmurs.

All is silent and every tribute walks forward, in search of shelter.

I lean back in my chair.

Let the Games begin.


	21. Letter

**The Mentors**

_**Chapter Twenty-One**_

**_Day One; Part Two_**

_Hazel Birchbark (D7)_

My main concern for Olive this early into the competition is her finding a relatively safe place to stay the night. Olive has to find somewhere that she feels safe enough to sleep but in an arena with sixteen people, places like that are limited.

I'm worried for her, I'll admit that. I shouldn't be, considering she has an axe, but I am. I just can't stop myself from imagining her reactions to possibly dangerous situations.

Olive hasn't seen any tributes at this point and I wonder how she would react if she _did_ come across another. Would she flee? Would she propose an alliance? Would she kill without a thought?

I push the questions from my mind.

Imagining all that could happen to your tributes is one of the worst things you can do as a mentor. I've heard that some mentors actually go insane from it.

I'm sure as hell not going to be one of _those_ Victors.

From what I can tell, the arena is made up of four distinct terrains. The northwest corner is a forest that most of the tributes disappeared into after the bloodbath. The northeast section is a valley with a mountain range off in the distance. There are grasslands in the southwest which houses the Cornucopia and a large lake. And finally, a desert on the eastern side of the grasslands.

Olive is deep into the forest, sitting on the edge of a small pond. If only she knew how to fish . . .

Harmony and Forrest are fast approaching the mountains, they'll most likely make it there by nightfall. They must be hoping for a cave to hide out in. His inane is fast grating on my nerves and from her annoyed expression, Harmony too.

Maeve and Fern are walking along the edge of the valley where grass abruptly turns to the sands of the desert. They discuss quietly where they'll stay for the night, noting the mountains as a potential spot.

Scout has climbed a tree near the edge of the forest's eastern side. She looks quite cozy up on the strong branch and dozes off.

Miles has placed himself on the very outskirts of the forest, near the Cornucopia. It could potentially be a very smart move. When the Careers go to hunt he might be able to steal supplies.

Anise is hiding in the tall grass near the lake. She's close to the desert also and I wonder if it's hot or mild where she is. Do the temperatures change in the different zones? From what I can see, Anise has no supplies so Garl better be working his ass off for sponsors.

Iris, Laurel, and Zale are in the forest, but traveling toward the valley. I feel a pang of sympathy for Laurel, who seems to be brooding silently over her first kill after her outburst of emotion earlier. I wonder where they'll stay for the night and decide the most likely option is the trees.

The kids have random conversations going on that I don't particularly enjoy, but it's the only crap I have to listen to.

I laugh. Kids? I'm only a year older than Anneliese, Zeke, and Zale. Why does it feel like I'm so much older than nineteen sometimes?

I stare at the small device that every mentor is given, examining it for possible changes in the design since last year.

It sends the gifts. Each device has a different password so no cheating occurs, and this allows you to go spend time with the other mentors. If you want to go spend time with most of the losers, which I definitely don't.

A small knock comes at the door and Donnie enters a second later. He strolls to me with a lilt in his step, handing me a small envelope with a smirk. I stare at it. "What the fuck is this?"

"A letter?" he responds, rolling his eyes.

"Who in the hell would write me a letter?" I mutter, more to myself than Donnie.

"Do I _look_ like I'm all-knowing?" Donnie snaps, with strong annoyance clear in his tone. I roll my eyes before he turns to leave. I bite my lip worriedly and stare down at the letter.

My parents are dead, I'm an only child, and I have no friends. The only person it could be from is Birch. I'm tempted to throw it out, since I don't want any bad news right now.

I decide against it, though, and tear it open.

_Dear Hazel,_

_I'm just going to get to the point because I know you're already tempted to burn this, or shred it, or . . . whatever._

_I've been dating someone for six months. I didn't want to tell you because I knew all you'd only make fun of me. I know, right now you're thinking 'What the fuck, Birch? Why did you send me a letter about this?' I'm laughing right now just thinking about your expression. _

_I know that this isn't exactly breaking news but I just wanted to let you know because I count you as one of my close friends. And I know you'd hurt me if you were the last to know, so here it is. _

_I'm getting married. She's not someone you'd like, but I hope one day you can be friends. _

_Just thought I'd let you know._

I finish reading and stare at the words. I stare at them until they become random scribbling on the paper. I finally tear the letter into pieces and throw them all into the garbage can. A lot of the tiny scraps of paper miss it entirely.

I'm barely able to process this information. Birch and marriage just don't mix in my mind. I always thought we'd both end up alone. Well, not alone, we'd still have each other, of course, but without love.

* * *

_Clubb Paige (D2)_

Death is fun to witness. The pained looks, the blood, and gore all make one big party to me.

The bloodbath is my favorite time of the year. It's like a shot of endorphins, for a few minutes I'm on top of the world, despite that I'm not doing the killing myself.

I have to act normal, though, which is the worst part about this whole thing. The escort is the bane of my existence. If I even give a hint of jealousy she'd tattle to some government official and I'd be locked up in the crazy house.

I wish I could kill her. I long to.

I stare up at the screen for the most part, but it bores me quickly. I only like to hear the Careers conversation because all the other idiots don't matter to me. From what I gather, they're leaving to hunt tonight. Hopefully they will manage to find a scrawny, little tribute and tear them to bits.

But that's wishful thinking on my part.

Hopefully, that District Seven boy dies. He's annoying as hell. His stories are idiotic and his problems are petty and his face pisses me off when he tries to explain something to Harmony. Harmony looks like she doesn't give a fuck either, but she placates him by nodding from time to time.

I stare at the screen without really seeing anything for the next hour.

Boring.


	22. Pulse

**The Mentors**

_**Chapter Twenty-Two**_

_**Day One; Part Three**_

_Dexter Kane (D3)_

I have found my new awareness to be quite interesting. I don't know what happened, but the death of Gage changed how I see the world. My wife's pregnancy is no longer a curse. It brings me joy, and I have written a letter to her explaining that I love her again.

I don't know if I didn't love her then _exactly_, but I believe that I lost the will to care. And having a baby on the way didn't help much.

I lay on the bed, wishing I could sleep, but knowing I won't be able to.

I sit up and pick up the gift device to check the money count. I don't yet have enough money to send any gifts to Harmony, but I'm working on it. The money count doesn't go up much, sadly, since Harmony isn't a favorite.

Harmony watches over her and Forrest's cave, while the boy sleeps. He insisted she take first watch because he was "just so tired he could barely stand."

She stares at him coldly and I know this alliance won't last very long. Like clockwork, she stands stiffly. She walks over to him and gathers two canteens of water and slowly peels the knife out of his fingers.

"I'm sorry," Harmony whispers.

I look away from what surely is going to be a bloody scene, but hear a muttered curse instead. I look back to see she has stood.

Harmony walks from the cave, her gaze focused on the forest.

I don't notice the Careers have left the Cornucopia until they are shown walking into the valley.

I hold my breath in fear. All of the Careers are there and their eyes zero in on my last tribute. A snarl flashes across Pearl's face and Barnacle looks as though he'll be sick.

"This should be fun," Anneliese hisses with a chuckle.

Harmony finally notices the Careers and has the sense to run. The girl might be from District Three, but she's a fast runner. And that's her only hope at this point.

The Careers begin the chase and little Pearl pulls out in front. She has an evilly curved dagger clenched in her fist.

They close in on her before she can get to the forest. I try to squeeze my eyes shut but they're glued onto the scene, unable to look away.

The little girl jumps onto Harmony's back and stabs her repeatedly. Once Pearl thinks that my tribute is stabbed enough times to kill her she climbs off Harmony and wipes herself off, looking disgusted at the blood.

The rest of the Careers show up as Harmony takes her last breaths in the form of short little gasps.

Her cannon fires and my hope dies with the sound.

* * *

_Damon Marx (D9)_

The Careers have left the Cornucopia and Miles begins the walk over to the Cornucopia for supplies. But another tribute does, too. Anise has a longer way to go, but she has longer legs than Miles.

I bite my tongue, hoping they will part peacefully, or that my tribute will kill her and not the other way around. Quinn places a calming hand on my shoulder, and I give a tight smile in return. The woman is more subdued than usual, but still has the energy to smile at me brightly.

She's been doing this a lot longer than me, but her optimism hinders her. Quinn can't help but believe one of her tributes will make it out despite the odds, so the deaths hit her harder than they do others. It's one of the reasons I consider her to be a truly good person among the other mentors.

Quinn tries to placate me by sharing her opinion on the problem. She tries to convince me that Anise won't kill unless provoked. There is even less of a chance of that because Miles is on the younger side and the Twelve has a large amount of little brothers.

She keeps trying to comfort me but I shake off her words. My breaths becomes more erratic as the two tributes approach the Cornucopia.

They both reach the Cornucopia around the same time. They notice each other and stare until Anise steps forward. "You had this idea, too?"

"Yeah," Miles says, looking wary. Good. "You think they'll notice?"

"Naw," Anise says, "They're as dumb as bricks. The only one who'd notice would be that Barnacle boy and he won't be living much longer."

"Hmm." Miles thinks it over and then grins. "You're right."

"So can we both do this without a fight?" Anise asks.

"I think so."

They smile and gather supplies, though both keep a cautious distance from the other. They wave goodbye before going their separate ways, and both breathe a sigh of relief when they turn around.

Disaster averted.

* * *

_Lilac Parrish (D6)_

It is still nighttime on the screen and most of the tributes are asleep, but some keep watch.

I fear for my tribute. She has an ally in Fern but I don't trust Blaise's tribute. I believe when the time comes to break the alliance, Fern will do so violently. It's jarring, the way her manner has changed just in the short amount of time she's been in the arena.

I talked to her a few times before she went in the Games and Maeve told me about her some. She seemed to be a perfectly sweet girl, though a bit guarded. And now . . . she's horrible to Maeve.

I stare at the television screen, loneliness beating on me like a drum.

I usually sit with Quinn since she offers a quick laugh and, occasionally, liquor. I have a feeling that she won't be in the mood, though, since she's still sad about Clay. She'll be too unhappy for me to bear.

I decide it's a good time to visit someone before I go crazy. Hell, Clubb might even be good company . . . okay, not really. I'm not that desperate.

Yet.

I wander around until I find myself in Blaise's room. He looks up from the screen with an expression that says he expected me to stop by sooner or later. I slowly fall back onto his bed.

He sits in a chair, so close to the television his nose could touch it if he move a centimeter. I put a hand on his shoulder and Blaise reluctantly peels his attention away from the screen. His eyes are bloodshot and he looks, to be frank, like shit.

My mothering instincts kick in and I pull him back about two feet. "Your eyes are going to fall out, kid."

He protests weakly but falls silent after a few seconds. "I don't want her to die."

I sigh tiredly. I almost forgot it is Blaise's first time mentoring. The poor kid is killing himself. "I know you don't want her to die, honey . . . but this is how it is. I didn't want Pierce to die, I don't want Maeve to die . . . but, most likely, she's going to and we all need to be prepared for it to happen."

Blaise puts his head in his hands and is silent. I grant him the much needed time to compose himself. I feel oddly mad at myself for upsetting him even more but I know this is a lesson he has to learn.

"Maeve has to die," Blaise whispers.

I stiffen. "What?"

"For Fern to win." He lifts his head, eyes shining erratically. "Don't you _see_ it? She has to die for Fern to win!"

"Blaise, honey? Are you feeling okay?" I murmur, terror making my voice seem small.

He's gone crazy, absolutely nutty.

He exclaims, his eyes feral, "They all have to die and then Fern will win!"

"Damn it, Blaise! You are not going to do this to me tonight, understand? I have enough to deal with without you going crazy on me, so _snap out of it_!" I yell, my voice breaking at the end.

His eyes become oddly glassy when compared to just a few seconds ago. It seems like he stares at me for all eternity without saying a word, but I know it must be only seconds.

"Blaise?" I hiss.

His eyes roll back into his head and he falls from the chair to the ground with a loud _smack_. His body begins to convulse and foam spills from his mouth. I stare at him in frightened disbelief before springing into action.

I jump up and fling open the door. A stroke of luck, has a random escort passing by the room. "We need a doctor!"

I turn back into the room and Blaise has become still. I fall to the ground beside him and check his vital signs as I learned to do so many years ago in the training center.

A sob escapes from my lips.

There's no pulse.


	23. Tears

**The Mentors**

**_Chapter Twenty-Three_**

**_Day Two; Part One_**

_Blaise Calder (D10)_

It doesn't seem like a dream exactly. It's like I'm running through a thick haze, a fog that I can't see through. A noise echoes in my ear as if uttered from far away. I recognize the noise as my name. Someone said my name.

The next is closer, a vaguely familiar voice asking if I can hear them. I want to tell them I do, but my lips won't obey the command.

"Maybe he won't wake up," yet another voice says right beside me. A voice I've known for years.

My eyes flutter open. A man in a white coat, Lilac looking down on me joyfully, and Marie Deacon greet me grimly. Marie is the only other mentor of District Ten, and she lets out a cry of joy.

"Wh-what's the matter?" I ask confusedly.

"You had a seizure."

Oh, great. I thought I'd stopped doing that

"Quite a bad one. You flat-lined."

Been there, done that. Escaping the jaws of death seems to be a talent of mine.

"Oh," I reply, trying my best to sound horrified. Lilac looks at me as if I'm insane and Marie regards me knowingly.

"You don't sound very surprised," the doctor notes. "Does this happen often?"

"Every once and a while." I shrug. "They've been happening since I won my Games."

"_Interesting_ . . . have you ever flat-lined before?" the doctor questions.

"Not because of a seizure. That's pretty new." I stare at the ground. "But I flat-lined on the hovercraft carrying me from my Games."

"Ah, I remember your Games. That Bonnie girl . . ." My ears decide to go temporarily deaf.

I don't need to hear about what Bonnie did for me. I've heard about it enough and it only makes me depressed. I don't think I'll ever know whether I loved the girl or not, which makes her much harder to hear about.

"Why is Marie here?" I ask, pushing Bonnie from my mind.

"It's just a precaution in case you weren't able to continue your duties as a mentor." The doctor smiles at me. "But you've made a miraculous recovery and may return to your room. Marie will be sent home but it's policy for someone to keep an eye on you for the rest of your time here. Lilac has happily agreed."

Great.

Now I have a babysitter. Way to make me feel like a man.

I sit up, feeling a little dizzy but it's not foreign to me. Lilac helps me to the District Ten room and I notice there is now a second bed. This is either going to extremely awkward or we'll be friends.

Fingers crossed.

"This is going to be fun," I mutter as I lay on my bed, the Hunger Games quickly overtaking my senses.

* * *

_Quinn McKinney (D8)_

I've been by myself since last night since Damon went to sleep but hopefully he'll return when he wakes. Preferably with some food, 'cause I'm starving. I do my best to keep the image of bacon from my mind, so I won't abandon my room for the kitchen.

I stare at the screen blankly, bored out of my mind. I doze off but only for a second before I jolt awake.

Damon knocks before entering, which I told him not to do, but he apparently ignored me. "Good morning, Quinn-Quinn."

He smiles and I stick my tongue out at him in return. "Shut up, Marx."

Damon sits down beside me before asking, "Did you hear about Blaise?"

"No, I didn't," I answer. "What went down?"

Damon grins at my words, before answering. "He had some sort of seizure. Lilac's staying with him, really shaken up, I heard."

"Oh, Panem, that's horrible!" I reply with a sympathetic frown. "I'll have to go see them soon."

"Horrible," he agrees. "So breakfast?"

"It it bacon?"

"You are such a-"

"Watch it," I snap and he grins sheepishly. He pulls out a small granola bar and I groan. "We are in the _Capitol _and all you can find is a _granola bar_?"

"Take it or leave it, Miss McKinney. I'll be happy to eat it for you." I snatch the bar away from him and eat it quickly, not really noticing any flavor.

We stare at the screen and don't say much else. The Careers are making their way back to the Cornucopia. Last night that little gremlin of a District Four girl killed Harmony. It wasn't easy to watch.

I haven't heard from Dexter- mostly because he doesn't talk- but I've heard some of the escorts whisper his name. Something must have happened.

"See any people to harass on your way over here?" I ask with a carefree grin, though that's the farthest away from what I actually feel. It's been a hard twenty-four hours since Clay died. It seems like a day is a lifetime when you're mentoring.

"I said a few choice words to . . . um . . . maybe the District Six escort?" he says, his eyebrows pulling together in confusion.

I laugh and stare at the ceiling fan for about thirty minutes. I come to the conclusion that ceiling fans are nice.

"Quinn." Damon's face expression is grim as he stares at the television screen.

My throat closes up in fear and I force myself to look. I thought the Careers would go through the valley to get back to the Cornucopia. But they didn't. On the advice of Barnacle they're going through the very edge of the forest. Right where my tribute is.

A sob escapes my throat.

It's over.

They get to her before she even notices them. Zeke is allowed to take the kill and he doesn't drag it out, thank Panem.

I cry as he kills her and Damon hugs me. He lets me stain his shirt with my tears as much as I want.

* * *

_Garland "Garl" Riggs (D12)_

I hate this.

Scout is barely dead and the Careers are celebrating.

"Damn Careers," I mutter. "Always happy to kill." The Anneliese girl doesn't look that happy- probably sad she hasn't gotten to torture anyone yet. I wonder who will be next and hope it's not Anise. I've already lost Sage and I don't need another death that's my fault. I've already got the District Six girl from my Games blood on my hands.

I feel for Quinn. Usually I'm the one that has two tributes dead in the bloodbath. By this time, I never have anything to do but throw myself on unsuspecting mentors so I won't be bored out of my mind.

I decide to go pay Quinn a visit later and maybe stop and see Lilac and Blaise.

I've been worried about all of them.

Dexter is a complete turnaround from the beginning of the Games. He stopped by a few minutes to talk to me. Something about me being "wiser" than the rest of them.

He said his wife sent him a letter saying that if he's lying about being better she'll leave him. If being old means having to listen to other people's problems all the time, I want to be young again.

Well, I'd want to be young anyway, but that doesn't matter.


	24. Hyperventilate

**The Mentors**

_**Chapter Twenty-Four**_

_**Day Two; Part Two**_

_Ivo Wright (D1)_

I stare at the ceiling, looking up from where I'm confined to my bed.

I try to comprehend what I'm feeling. My chest is tight, my breathing shallow, and I don't have the strength to move an inch.

I hate this. I hate the Capitol, the Games, and this tiny room.

The walls are closing in, crushing me. I gasp for air, but it seems like I'm not getting any. A vision comes slowly from the depths of my brain, I must have fainted or something similar to it.

I see me, only twelve-years old, in a cave. I scream at my younger self to run, knowing what will happen next. My past self looks up just before the cave collapses. I don't see the old me anymore, but can feel the pain of the moment.

I look down at my hands. Fresh blood is spilling from a multitude of cuts, just like they did when I dug myself out of the cave-in in the Hunger Games.

I scream for what seems like years, asking someone to help, to get me out of this horrible mess. I am being shaken and I lament, thinking that it can only be the rocks shifting over me or an earthquake.

No. That's not it. I'm being shaken from my dream. I open my eyes to see Ronny looking down at me wildly.

"What's the matter with you?" she yells. "Were you having a nightmare or something?"

Much, much worse, Ronny. I shake my head, staring up into her wide eyes. I grab my neck to signal that I couldn't breathe.

It takes her a few seconds, but eventually she gets it. "You couldn't breathe? Why the _hell_ not? Were you choking on something?"

I'm at a loss to explain what was going on and she can tell. She looks in a drawer, pulling out paper and a pen after a few seconds. She offers them to me and I shakily write it all down.

After I'm done, I pass the paper to her. Her eyes scan over the paper quickly.

"I haven't ever watched your Games, no. So you were in a cave-in, but dug yourself out?" I nod. "Impressive. And you've been claustrophobic since?"

I nod again.

"This room must be getting to you then," she observes, wrapping her arms around her body. "I didn't know mute people could scream."

I stare at my hands. I'm not what doctors would call a true mute, I'm able to make _some_ noises. My vocal chords were damaged, so I'm unable to speak, but screaming isn't completely out of reach apparently.

I shrug before shooting her a thankful look.

She gets it. "No problem. You know, you'd probably be an easy to like, considering you can't ruin it by talking."

I roll my eyes and wave her away. She leaves quickly, but I have a feeling she might be back.

* * *

_Ronny Pied (D5)_

I've had a weird day, Kallen.

For one, Ivo- you know the mute mentor I told you about?- had an episode. He was involved in a cave-in when he was in his Games. He dug himself out, too. So now he's claustrophobic, which is understandable, I guess.

I'm pass out at the slight of blood and heights make me nauseous, so I can understand his predicament.

His room is really small so I know he must be miserable. Did you know mute people can scream?

He did. He hasn't used his voice since who knows when and it was all scratchy and horrible. I got chills. What I don't understand is why no one went and checked on him. I mean, Clubb could've been murdering him.

Just kidding. Clubb doesn't want to go to jail, I'm sure, but one thing is for certain: He's terrifying.

So I'm about halfway done with my project. I'm making our house in Victor's Village this year. If you've forgotten since I haven't went in so long, I always carve something. The last year I went I carved a miniature horse, if I recall correctly. Remember it? You named it Wally and I laughed. I think it's in the attic.

I know you're probably worried about . . . carpal tunnel happening, or some other medical shit. But my only problem is that my hand is slowing me down a bit, but that's not _horrible_.

I've been feeling a little sick. I think it might be the rich food, since I don't eat a lot. I vomited yesterday and it really pissed me off. Here I am, supposed to be taking care of tributes and I can't even take care of myself.

Oh, the irony.

I haven't slept a wink since I left. I'm scared to sleep; I don't want to have nightmares. It won't be okay if I do, since I won't have you with me. I wonder what symptoms exhaustion causes. Maybe that's why I feel sick.

At the rate the Games are going, I think it'll all be over by the end of the week. It seems like a lifetime when you're mentoring.

I miss you. I miss your smile and your laugh and your smell.

I'm pathetic, aren't I?

I love you so much and it kills me to be away from you. I hate the way my heart aches and I can't pay attention to anything because all I can think about is you.

With more love than I ever thought possible, Ronny.

I finish the letter and realize I'm staining the paper with my tears. I fold it carefully- lovingly, you can call it- and seal away my heart in a stark white envelope.

* * *

_Aurora Fairchild (D11)_

I was scared this morning for my tributes. When the Careers killed Scout, they were too close for comfort to the grisly scene. I almost fainted before I realized I was holding my breath.

I'm worried about Zale and Laurel for another reason though. They're getting closer than two people should be when you're in the Hunger Games. They talk for hours at a time, leaving poor little Iris as the third wheel.

They have _feelings_ for each other.

I pace around my little room as Fluffy looks at me like I'm crazy, and mutter under by breath sourly. "They _like _each other."

"I know!" Fluffy squeals in delight. "Everyone is noticing! They are the _cutest_! They have lots of people interested and the sponsor money is at an all time high!"

I glare at her. "I'm not worried about the damn sponsor money, Fluff. I'm worried about them. This is something that could fuck up a person even more than usual."

Fluffy looks like a puppy that has been scolded. "I'm sorry, Aurora. I know you're very protective of them and know them better than I do, but maybe this is good! They might never get the chance to feel like this again, even if it _is_ a dangerous situation."

I smile at her, despite the heavy feeling in my chest. I must admit, both are good ways to think about it. It's a horrible mistake or a last-ditch effort for love.

That Fluffy can think of it in that way makes me slightly envious of her.

The only people I have in the world are my mother and Locust. I feel like others get so much more than me sometimes. Especially, when it comes to my love life, which is nonexistent.

My freaking tributes are better off than I am in that department.


	25. Kiss

**The Mentors  
**

_**Chapter Twenty-Five  
**_

**_Day Two; Day Three_  
**

_Clubb Paige (D2)**  
**_

I'm just sitting in my room, envisioning death, when that Hazel girl bursts into the room and plops on my bed. For a moment all I can do is stare, my mouth hanging open in shock. I can feel my eyes popping out of my head.

"Don't say anything," she snaps. "I don't want to hear it."

"Get out," I croak, shock taking all the strength from my words.

"Do I look like I'm intimidated by you?" Hazel asks, glaring fiercely. "I didn't think so."

"Why are you here?" I ask, murderously angry.

Does she know I could peel her face off without any remorse?

"I need to talk to someone."

"Go talk to someone else."

"They don't like me," she explains.

"And I do?" Hazel glares at that, sitting up. She just looks at me for what seems like ten minutes and I find myself thinking about her in more than the "how would she look dismembered?" way that I usually get when I look at people.

She's stronger than most people are, that's for sure.

She lays back down lazily. "I think that you don't give a shit about anyone and you're a complete sadist. But I know you aren't going to hurt me, Clubb, because if you try to I will kick your ass. Understand?"

A respect for this woman comes out of nowhere. "Oh, really?"

"You wanna bet that I won't?" she challenges with a smirk. "Because I like my odds."

"Fuck off, Hazel," I spit through gritted teeth.

"_Ooooo, I'm scared now_," she replies mockingly.

* * *

_Hazel Birchbark (D7)_

After we get done insulting each other, Clubb is actually likeable. Meaning he doesn't open his mouth. I pour my heart out about how I'm feeling about the whole Birch thing and he plays with a stray string on his pants.

I don't _want_ Birch to get married. Birch is _my _best friend. He doesn't belong to anyone else. _Definitely_ not that stupid fucking girl he's marrying that I already dislike.

The thought is wrong. The thought of him being with another person in any way is laughable in my mind. It's supposed to be just us. Forever.

I'm pathetic. Extremely.

What do I think is supposed to happen? That a catch like Birch will stay single, so him and I can be BFFs for all eternity? I sound like a fucking teenage girl.

The horrible part is that I _am _a teenage girl, and I'm pissed off that I sound like a teenage girl.

"I'm pathetic, aren't I, Clubb?" I ask.

He doesn't react, it's like I'm speaking to a fucking wall.

"See, even _you_ think so!" I exclaim.

This conversation is more one-sided than talking to a mute. At the very least, Ivo can make cute little hand motions that piss me off. I'm officially pissed off.

I'm losing myself over a guy. And it's not even a guy I'm interested in. How ironic is that? It's Birch. Fucking Birch. Who would've thought?

I finish my tale and look at Clubb to gauge his reaction. I'm pretty sure he won't respond in any way.

"You like him," Clubb grunts. "This is the stupidest conversation I have ever had in my life and this will not be happening again. Ever. Understand? I have told you what I think and it is time for you to go. Get. Out. Of. My. Room."

His idea is ridiculous. Incomprehensible. "You're an idiot. That is not what this is."

He stands up. "I have listened to your stupid shit and told you what I thought. Get out of my room or I will throw you out."

I stand up. "I am not leaving! You can try to make me leave, but I'm not!"

He pokes me in the chest with his sausage-looking finger. "Now, you listen to me-."

I punch him before he can even get the rest of his sentence out. We stare at each other in a half-shocked, half-tense silence. Then I make possibly the stupidest move of my life.

I kiss him.

* * *

_Dara Valentine (D4)_

This has been the most boring day ever.

I miss Kai severely and I'm too focused on wedding plans to focus on my mentoring. Also_, _that idiot Damon stole the last doughnut right out of my hand. And wait for it . . . he ate it _right in front of me_. If looks could kill, he would be dead ten times over.

I watch the stupid little tributes run all over the screen in varying states of shabbiness. It seems to be showing the alliance of the District Eleven tributes and the little girl from Five a lot more than average.

Stupid hormonal teenagers, hogging all the screen time when they _should_ be showing the Careers.

They are by far the most interesting group, with the constant bickering between Zeke and Anneliese over what they should be doing. Pearl and Gaze take sides but it always ends up in a tie since Barnacle's vote doesn't count.

It's late at night and Zeke and Gaze are on watch. If I'm right, though, it's almost time for Anneliese and Pearl to take over. I find that I _am_ right, minutes later. Zeke wakes the girls as Gaze lays down.

"You know, Anneliese," Pearl begins, trying to sound innocent, after the boys begin snoring. "I'll do watch by myself if you want to get some more sleep."

Suspicion flashes across Anneliese's face, but it's gone before Pearl can notice it. "Yeah, I am pretty tired. Good night."

Anneliese lays back down, curling up into a small ball.

About an hour later, Pearl goes to the Cornucopia. She can't see the sleeping people there and Anneliese sits up, smiling at Zeke and Gaze. "One of you are going to be dead in a few minutes. Have fun with that."

Pearl chooses the knife she killed the District Three girl with a day ago from the pile in front of the Cornucopia. She walks back with a sinister smile on her face.

The plan is simple. She's going to kill one person and then split from the Career pack.

But Anneliese knows what she's doing. If Pearl goes to kill her, Anneliese will be ready and she will die.

"Pearl . . . choose right, Pearl. Choose right," I whisper.

Pearl looks at the four sleeping children. Anneliese, Barnie, Zeke, and Gaze. She had been happy-looking but now she looks infinitely sad. She walks over to a little bundle of covers that hides a sleeping tribute. My heart stops.

"No, Pearl," I moan. "Don't do it."

She drops beside the figure and smiles kindly, "I'm so sorry, but for me to win you have to die. I'll miss you."

Then she begins to stab the tribute, over and over. The tribute's eyes fly open, holding surprise and pain. "Pearl. How could you..?"

Pearl whispers, "Bye Barnie."

She grabs the bag she had packed earlier in the day and heads off, so she can get a good head start before the cannon fires. Anneliese is already cursing as she sits up.

"She killed Barnie? _Barnie_? Fucking idiot." She watches to see where Pearl enters the forest.

Barnie's cannon fires. Gaze and Zeke sit up and when they see Barnie, they let out little breaths of shock. Anneliese is already standing, sword ready. "It was Pearl. She told me I could sleep and I didn't think of it as anything sinister. I saw her go that way."

The boys climb off the ground, grab weapons, and begin the chase. Pearl, being much faster than the rest, easily evades the three. I realize I've been crying and wipe my face.

_Why_, Pearl, why _Barnie_?

What did he ever do to you?


	26. Pain

**The Mentors**

**_Chapter Twenty-Six_**

**_Day Three; Part One_**

_Lilac Parrish (D6)_

I stare at Blaise's sleeping form. He's a restless sleeper, which doesn't surprise me since Victors rarely have peaceful sleep. He tosses around and his eyes are a little open, which freaks me out. "Blaise?"

"Mmmm?" he hums, still half-asleep.

"Are you hungry?" I ask, wanting him to say yes. He hasn't ate a lot lately.

He rolls over and glares at me. "I can go get my own food, you know."

I haven't allowed him out of bed much and I know he's starting to resent me already. But so what? If it's good for him, why does it matter what he wants to do?

"Not while I'm in charge, kiddo," I cluck. "You should be happy I let you get up at all."

"Lilac," he whines. "This has happened before and I'm fine. Dandy, you might say."

"Just deal with it Blaise." I massage my temples. "Please, shut up about it."

It's quiet for the next few minutes, as we watch the tributes wake. I move to the door, on my way to get us breakfast, when Blaise speaks. "What happened before you came here?"

I tense. "What do you mean?"

He gives me a curious look, his face too innocent for me to be annoyed with. "Something bad happened to you. I can tell. Was there . . . a death in the family?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," I lie.

I know from his narrowed eyes he doesn't buy it.

"C'mon Lilac, the least you can do for me since you're such a harsh caretaker is tell me what's wrong . . ." I roll my eyes, even though all I want to do scrunch up in the corner and cry. Someone has found out that I'm acting all wrong.

"So, do you want a doughnut or a bagel for breakfast? Coffee, too, I'm sure?" I ask, steering the conversation to a new topic. Blaise will say doughnuts and, yes, coffee, with lots of cream and sugar. I've noticed the kid has a sugar tooth.

He gives me a hopeful look. "I will not eat until you tell me what is wrong."

I glare. "You aren't serious."

"I think I am," he retorts, with a cocked eyebrow.

"Blaise, you're acting like a child."

"Childish or not, I'm sure it will work," he says with a grin.

I just stare at him. Already the thought of telling him about my . . . problem . . . isn't as bad as I'd originally thought. Maybe he could give me advice, though I'm sure he hasn't ever went through anything like this. Well, hopefully, he hasn't been through anything like this.

"Blaise . . . can we talk about it later?" I ask slowly.

"Sure. As long as we talk, because, to tell you the truth, I'm starving."

* * *

_Garland "Garl" Riggs (D12)_

I hate how in almost thirty years, I still don't have any best friends among the mentors. My favorite is Mags from District Four, by far. She's witty and truly cares about her tributes, but we're not _that_ close. And she's not a bitch like _someone_ I know from District Four . . . but I'm not naming any names.

Anise is sweating out in the desert, looking directly into the camera every few seconds. It's like she can see it, but I know there's no possible way for her to. The cameras that the Capitol makes are far too small for the human eye to see.

I want to do something to help the girl, maybe send her some water, but she doesn't have enough sponsor money for it. District Twelve tributes never have enough money for anything.

The gifts are becoming increasingly more expensive and, so far, the only people I've seen get a gift is the alliance between the Eleven tributes and the Five girl. They were awarded a small amount of food and water.

It's hard to think that eleven of the tributes are dead. And it's only been three days. At this rate, these Games will be the quickest yet. The good thing is that it won't give the Capitol viewers any time to get bored. In a matter of hours the final eight could be in the arena to fight it out for the crown. For a life that is so like mine.

"Anise, I'm so sorry," I whisper. "I'm so sorry you have to go through this."

"Are you going crazy, old man?" a sarcastic, yet sad, voice asks. I turn to see Quinn standing in the doorway. Her black hair is a tangled mess, and her eyes are puffy and red.

Both her tributes have already died and she's taking it hard. Hope can do that to you.

"It's a good possibility," I say with a kind smile, trying to lift her spirits. It doesn't help at all. She only smiles, but I know it's fake. Hell, an escort could tell it was fake.

"So . . . how have you been?" she asks slowly, trying to form a genuine smile on her face but failing miserably.

"Pretty well, I guess. Kind of depressed, if you can believe it."

She smiles. "I think most of us feel like that at the moment."

"And then there's you," I say with a frown.

"_What_?"

"You feel worse than all of us." She tears up and I frown. "Don't cry."

"You aren't supposed to say that," she croaks as the tears fall to the ground. "You're supposed to tell me that everything is going to be okay, that after awhile I won't feel like this anymore."

"Do you want me to lie to you?" I ask.

"I'm not sure," she whispers.

* * *

_Ivo Wright (D1)_

Ronny sits with me a lot now. I love how she acts like we're actually having a conversation, when we both know we aren't. "So, have you been good?"

I nod slightly, keeping my eyes trained on the television. She knows I'm listening even if I don't look at her. Ronny is silent for a long time and I look at her with a small, fake smile.

Her face is scrunched up in pain and I look at her with concern. She just shakes her head, panting slightly. "It'll only hurt for a little bit. Don't worry about it."

I give her one more look before turning back to the television.

Minutes later, she gasps. I look back to her. Her face is pale with a sheen of sweat. She clutches her abdomen and cries out in agony.

I'm by her side before I can think. She looks up at me.

"Kallen? What's happening to me?" Her voice is a pained whisper. I don't particularly care who this Kallen person is, but I know once the pain is so bad that you start to hallucinate things have taken a turn for the worse.

I carry her to the hospital wing. She looks around wildly and thrashes, yelling about the pain. I get her there in minutes, with some difficulty. The doctor looks up with a startled look, but it only takes him a second to spring into action. He pulls Ronny from my arms and lays her gently onto a gurney.

I walk out when he tells me that he must "examine her."

Not something I think I want to witness.

When I come back in, ten minutes later, he doesn't take his eyes off Ronny. He sticks a needle into her skin, and then hooks it up to some contraption that is full of a clear liquid that must be medicine. "Do you know who the father was?"

Does he mean Ronny's father? Because I sure as hell don't know his name. And what does he mean by was? Is she dying?

He looks up. "Oh, it's you."

He must mean that he had hoped the person would have been able to answer but, unfortunately, he is stuck with me.

"You must be worried." The doctor smiles and I resist the urge to punch him in the face. "She'll be fine. I'm administering pain medication. You can go now."

I don't move. He notices after a few minutes that I'm still there and throws me an annoyed look over his shoulder. "She needs to rest. She must not have known or she would have come in sooner."

I give him a curious glance, and he sighs before turning back to look at me. "Well, it looks to me that she was about four months pregnant which means she was almost into the second trimester. She had a miscarriage."


	27. Death

**The Mentors  
**

_**Chapter Twenty-Seven  
**_

**_Day Three; Part Two_  
**

_Ronny Pied (D5)**  
**_

I swim through the fog that is my mind, trying to reach the surface.

I don't hurt anymore. All I feel is grogginess, worse than if I just woke up from a day-long sleep. My eyes open to the blindingly white room. I wonder how I slept on this bed, it's lumpy and uncomfortable and it has rails.

Rails?

I look around wildly. I'm not in my room. I'm in the infirmary, or whatever the hell they call it. Why am I here? I try to think back to the last I remember, but all does is give me a headache. "Hello?"

The door opens and a man with pink hair pops into the room. "Miss Pied? Do you feel any better?"

"Better..? Did I feel bad before?" I ask, rubbing the sleep from my eyes.

"You should remember . . . But maybe it's best that you don't."

I yawn. "So, why am I here again?"

"Ivo carried you in. You presented with severe abdominal pain."

"He _carried_ me?"

The doctor nods, "So, I'm going to be blunt with you, Ronny. Can I call you Ronny? Well, earlier you were experiencing a miscarriage."

I don't understand his words. "What? I don't think I heard you right."

"You had a miscarriage."

It takes hearing the sentence a second time to make me realize what he is saying. "No, I'm not pregnant. It's not possible."

"Ronny . . . you were almost four months pregnant. How could you not know?" he asks.

"I don't . . . Please tell me this isn't happening." I feel tears on my cheeks. "I can't have been pregnant. There's no way."

A dozen things run through my mind. A night with Kallen around four months ago, throwing up, not feeling exactly right, missing my period but not really noticing with the Games coming up.

I take in a breath and the world spins. I take in another breath and then another. I hear the man telling me to blow out because I'm hyperventilating but I can't listen to him. He's lying. He's lying about my pregnancy, about my miscarriage, and so he must be lying about this too.

I don't understand. I can't have been pregnant. I can't have lost a baby, either. I mean, that doesn't happen, right? So he must be wrong. "I want a second opinion. Get me another doctor."

He gives me a reassuring look. "Ronny, there was nothing I could do. Sometimes things like this happen. It is better that you lost the baby anyway, if you would have went full term and delivered, it would either have been a stillborn or horribly disfigured. Would you have wanted that?"

I don't acknowledge his words, they're too cruel. Tears spill from my eyes and down my face at a frantic pace.

I lost mine and Kallen's baby.

* * *

_Hazel Birchbark (D7)_

I must admit, I'm a fucking idiot.

I had sex with Clubb. _Clubb_. Clubb "Sadist" Paige. It sounds like a huge joke or, maybe, a slap in the face. It wasn't my first time, but the idea of last night is mind boggling.

"I can't believe this," I whisper to myself. After fleeing from the District Two room moments after I woke up, all I can do is lie down and cry.

And I never cry.

I'm finally able to calm myself by midday. No one has to know about this. This was a horrible mistake that I will regret for a long, long time. No reason to waste a thought on it. Everyone's got a random, right?

I sullenly watch the television to distract myself from all of these . . . feelings.

The tributes are all tired and morose which is quite a feat for the Gamemakers, considering it's only the third day. It was showing Miles sitting up in a tree and gulping down water, but it quickly switches to the Elevens and Iris.

Do they have to spend _every other minute_ on that alliance? I guess it's understandable, though, since they're the clear favorites of the Capitol. Though in a different poll on who the population thinks will _win_, Anneliese and Zeke are tied for the win. Pearl and Laurel follow closely behind and then Gaze and Zale.

Zale walks up to Laurel, who is currently relaxing under the shade of a tree. "Where's Iris?"

Laurel looks up at him, smiling lazily. "She thought she saw some berries and went to pick them."

"Are you _sure_ she'll be okay?" Zale asks, looking worried.

Laurel laughs. "You worry too much. She could yell and it wouldn't take five seconds for us to get to her."

Zale mutters under his breath and Laurel's expression turns furious.

Oh, _damn_, trouble between the lovebirds, it seems. The shippers are going to have conniptions.

"You don't have to be an asshole about _everything_!" Laurel hisses. "I'm sorry that you're such a little girl that you can't stop worrying for five seconds, but that doesn't mean that you have to take it out on me."

"It's the fucking Hunger Games, Laurel!" he spits out. "How am I not supposed to worry?"

She glares. "You know what? How about we just break the damn alliance already since-." A scream covers her low whispering. The blood drains from their faces. They take off running toward the scream, Zale unsheathing his knife.

Iris bleeds from a wound in the middle of her stomach, mouth opening and closing in horror at the sight of it. I close my eyes. The little girl is going to die.

Laurel sinks down beside her. "_Iris_? Who did it, honey? Where did they go?"

The little girl cries. "He went that way!"

Zale nods, racing off in the direction that she points. Laurel comforts the girl, holding her hand, while trying to staunch the blood flow with the other hand.

It's not going to help. The person who killed her probably punctured the aorta. She'll be dead in minutes.

"Laurel? Will you do something for me?" Iris whispers.

"What, honey?" Laurel asks, tears running down her face.

"If you or Zale win, will you tell my family this?" She pulls Laurel down to her mouth and whispers into her ear.

Laurel nods, eyes closed. "Anything else?"

"Just talk to me," Iris mutters weakly.

Laurel gulps. She tells about how beautiful Eleven is during autumn, some of her adventures when she was Iris's age. She tells about picking apples and how hot it is during summer. She talks about her family and the other District Eleven victor, Locust, with love in her voice. She whispers to Iris that she will miss her as the young girl takes her final breaths.

The cannon fires for the girl and the cameras switch to Zale running through the woods, until he finally comes across a tall tribute that I know well. One that seeing causes indecision to flow through me. He's getting what was coming to him, I try to tell myself. But I have an urge to help him, despite knowing it's impossible.

Zale tackles him from behind. They roll around until Zale overpowers him. "Did you do it? Did you kill her?"

"Wh- What? Who?" Forrest gasps, eyes wild with fear. "The Five girl? I- I didn't mean to! Please don't kill me. Please, I have a-." Zale cuts off Forrest's pleading by slitting his throat.

Forrest's cannon fires quickly. Zale tries to wipe off as much blood as he can before walking back slowly. His face looks oddly expressionless. I expected some residual anger or sadness.

Forrest keeps springing to my mind.

He was not my favorite person. Maybe he deserved it.

But maybe he didn't.

* * *

_Dexter Kane (D3)_

I see the two deaths play out on the screen. I flinch for the four tributes involved in the deaths. For the two that are dead- Forrest and Iris. And the two that Iris was allied with. Laurel walks away, letting the hovercraft carry away Iris' body.

Laurel makes it back to their camp, tears still flowing freely. She and the little girl had gotten close, though not as close as Laurel is to her district partner. The district partner in question shows up minutes later.

"It was Forrest." Zale waves the bloody knife as evidence. "I killed him."

"I know. Iris . . ."

"Is dead," Zale supplies. "I know."

They turn away from each other, both trying to hide their tears. Some anger from their earlier fight must be left over, because they don't speak. Laurel doesn't mention what she said about breaking the alliance earlier. Zale doesn't mention it either.

There is drama in the Hunger Games. There was plenty of it in the deaths that just played out on the screen, but it doesn't entertain me, as it does the Capitolites.

It disgusts me.

I miss Diana, and I'm beyond excited to meet my child. I hope she doesn't have it while I'm gone. I don't want to miss my baby's birth.

"Di," I whisper, remembering laughter and getting mad at myself over the lack of it throughout the past year. She should have left me by now. But she hasn't, because she loves me and believes in me with everything she has. She wants this baby to have a loving family. And it will. I will love it every day of its life, even if it is cut short by the Capitol's cruelty.

If it is a girl, I want to name it Emerald, after my best friend's daughter. But Diana will most likely name her, and I won't get a say. After the way I've been acting, I don't think I _deserve_ a say. If it's a boy I'm not really sure.

But I do know I want this baby so much.

With all my heart.


	28. Helping

**The Mentors**

**_Chapter Twenty-Eight_**

**_Day Three; Part Three_**

_Clubb Paige (D2)_

I open one of my eyes to a squeaking sound. The door.

It glides forward and Hazel walks in with a worried expression. She looks pathetic now- her eyes red-rimmed, face tired and distraught. She looks like she's lost everything that made me respect her before.

"I just wanted to tell you something," she says quietly. Not at all like the Hazel I saw before. She was never quiet. "Everything that happened was a mistake. Understand? A mistake." She looks at me, hoping that I'll get it.

I laugh. "You act like I care."

Her eyebrows pull together in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"I had sex with you. And it didn't mean a thing. I couldn't care less about you or if it ever happened again."

"It's not like I care either! You're everything that I hate."

"Didn't seem like you hated me much last night," I say, while chuckling.

Her face pales. "Just shut up, Clubb."

"You know, maybe I did kind of take advantage of you. But that's not my fault. It's yours for being so in love with a guy that's getting married that you'd do anything to feel wanted. You know, I respected you. And look where you are now. Pathetic."

Her eyes water. "Shut. Up."

I grin. "Are you going to cry now, Hazel? Are you going to cry because the guy that screwed you out of pity doesn't care? Or are you going to cry about the guy you love that doesn't give a fuck about you?"

She seems frozen in place. Her brain saying to leave, but her legs refusing to cooperate. "Stop it."

"No wonder he doesn't care about you. I mean look at you. You're a mess. I wonder if Birch is having fun with his girl right now. I wonder if he can't even remember your name," I say with a sneer.

"Fuck you," she whispers, eyes flashing.

"What did you say?" I ask with a hand cupped to my ear.

"I said, _fuck you_!" she screams. "You know what, Clubb? If anyone is pathetic, you are! I wonder who made you like this. Did your parents not love you? Because I can't imagine anyone loving a piece of shit like you."

"Have you finally found your voice? Are you done crying? Are you_ taking a stand_?" I mock.

"I'm done stooping down to your level. Have fun living what you call a life." She walks out of the room with a calm expression and I stare at the door after she leaves.

Maybe since she's found her voice with me, she'll finally be able to tell Birch how she feels.

That's good, since it's what I've wanted all along.

* * *

_Damon Marx (D9)_

"Quinn? Are you okay?" I ask quietly.

"Yes, I'm fine."

"Are you sure?" I ask.

"Yes." Quinn's red-rimmed eyes follow me around the room as I pace. "What's the matter?"

"My dad's sick. Dawn sent me a letter this morning. I think they said he's got the flu. It's not responding to the medicine."

Quinn's eyes soften. "I'm sure he'll be fine."

"But what if he's not? What if he dies? What am I supposed to do?"

"Well, if that happens, you'll mourn his loss and keep his memory alive."

"Is that what you're going to do about Clay and Scout?" I ask quietly.

"I hope so," she whispers. "I just want to do them justice. I don't want them to be forgotten."

I hug her, like I have so many times in the past twenty-four hours. "They won't be forgotten as long as you remember."

"Are you sure?" she whispers.

"I'm very sure."

The tables have turned, I see. She went from comforting me to the other way around in minutes. I hold her for the longest time. I only let go when my arms begin to cramp.

"I don't want to talk to about them anymore. Let's talk about something completely shallow, okay?" she says with a strained smile.

I grin. "Sure."

"Well, I have these two friends that are dating. Finch and Linsey. Well before I left, Finch kissed me. And then Frieze- you know Frieze- kissed me. I'm confused about what I should do."

"How long have Linsey and Finch been dating?" I ask. Of course, Quinn would have two men pining for her at the same. I mean, who wouldn't want to be with the girl?

Quinn flinches. "Four years."

"Damn. Frieze would be a better choice, though, you know? You can relate better to each other. And Finch sounds like an idiot."

Quinn chuckles. "I guess I see your point."

"Are you as tired as I am?" I ask, yawning.

"I guess that's my cue to go," she says with a smile.

I enjoy Quinn's company; a kind of craving to be with her always is there when I come to mentor. She's like a ray of sunshine- most of the time- that can break through the Capitol's darkness. I like that. And when she's sad, it seems like my job to be there for her.

If it was up to me, I wouldn't want her to be with either of them. Finch seems like an ass and I didn't think Quinn and Frieze got along that well.

I watch Quinn go with sleepy eyes, wishing she'd come back and shine on me some more.

* * *

_Dara Valentine (D4)_

I can't bring myself to get up and find food. Barnie's death is still dampening my mood and I don't want to eat or sleep. I'm pretty sure I look like shit. I need beauty sleep and when I don't get it, ugly bags appear under my eyes.

Pearl has really pissed me off by killing Barnie. She needs water and has enough money for a small canteen, but I'm hesitating to send it to her. Why would she do that? I thought Barnie was like a _brother_ to her.

I guess I was wrong, though. She was just using Barnie, just luring him into a false sense of security, when really all she wanted to do was kill him.

I've just decided to send it to her when the screen changes to the Eleven tributes. They haven't spoken to each other since what the Capitolites are calling "The Incident."

They left their camp hours ago and are now deep in the forest. Olive almost ran into them thirty minutes ago, but they ultimately didn't meet.

I send Pearl a canteen of water. It switches to her seeing the silver parachute. She grins.

That's all I see before it switches back to the Eleven tributes. Laurel is looking through the trees and sees the parachute falling. She taps Zale's shoulder to get his attention before directing his gaze towards the parachute. Zale's face goes stiff at the sight.

They hurry forward, Laurel nocking an arrow. They stop in the bushes just in time to see my tribute take a gulp.

"We need water," Laurel whispers, biting her bottom lip.

She doesn't want to kill Pearl. But it's my tribute or her and I can already tell that Laurel's not the type of person to sacrifice herself for someone else to live.

She pulls the bowstring tight and releases. The arrow hits Pearl in the neck. She falls backwards, blood gushing from the wound. I'm pretty sure the arrow severed the jugular. She'll be dead in minutes.

Laurel and Zale come through the bushes warily. They take the backpack, which has a few pieces of bread and jerky inside of it. They grab the canteen from Pearl's shaking hands. Laurel watches her with a blank expression until the cannon fires. Then she walks away, leaving Zale jogging to keep up.

I just killed my tribute. Yes, it was by accident, but that doesn't matter. What matters is that a thirteen-year old girl is dead and it is _completely_ my fault. I should have waited a few more minutes to send it.

When I was younger and in training for the Games, I adored watching them every year. All I could imagine was myself winning. It was so easy to see passed the deaths on the screen.

I was ruthless in my Games. So different from what I really am. I might be a bitch, but I don't want to kill if I don't have to. I killed eight people that year.

I comfort myself with the fact that I've done much worse than accidentally kill my tribute.


	29. Chance

**The Mentors**

**_Chapter Twenty-Nine_**

**_Day Four; Part One_**

_Blaise Calder (D10)_

I shiver.

Whoever runs this place has turned down the temperature. That seems to be happening a lot lately.

Late last night in the arena, the temperature changed dramatically. It began to snow in the desert. I don't even know what to call it now since, obviously, it isn't a desert.

Lilac sent Maeve and Fern a blanket to share, though it doesn't keep them from shivering. They weren't dressed for this kind of weather. I'm confused as to why the Gamemakers did this, but I admit I don't want to understand sadists like them.

I grimace at the screen, where dim morning light wakes Maeve. Maeve rubs the sleep from her eyes, blinking rapidly. I think she considers lying back down, but hops up instead. "So, I wasn't paying attention last night. How many people died again?"

"There were three," Fern barks, obviously not in the mood for conversation. She used to be nice, but living in the arena has turned her into a cruel woman.

"Wow," Maeve breathes. "Who would have thought _we'd_ make it to the final ten?"

"Most of the tributes this year were weak," Fern snaps. "I'm not weak."

Maeve gives her a doubtful look, but doesn't reply.

"You annoy me, Maeve," Fern sighs. "You annoy the _fuck_ out of me."

Maeve gives her a surprised look. "Now, why would you say a thing like that?"

"It's true," Fern snorts. Lilac gives my tribute a withering look. I don't blame her. I don't like what I'm seeing Fern turn into. Maybe, she won't be like this if she wins. Maybe she'll change back to how she was before. Lilac sees the hope pass through my eyes. She shakes her head with a sad look. I understand. Even if Fern wins, Fern won't be with us anymore. It'll be _this_ girl.

"_Why_ are you being like this, Fern?" Maeve asks, eyes downcast. "I haven't done anything to you. We . . . we were friends when we trained together, weren't we? Or were you hiding this person behind the Fern I thought I knew?"

Fern shows her teeth when she grimaces. "I'm the same person as I was before. I'm not going to change. _This_ isn't going to change me."

Fern pauses, looking at her feet like the old Fern would. She looks up, a cruel glint in her eye. "Now leave. I'm breaking the alliance. Be happy I don't feel the need to kill you."

Maeve just stares at her, mouth agape in shock. Fern is busy halving the water and food. She hands Maeve's half to her roughly, making Maeve stumble. She picks up the blanket and rips it in half. She gives Maeve the more tattered side.

Maeve's lower lip quivers. She slowly backs into denser trees. Before long, you can't even see her anymore.

Fern smiles in satisfaction. I grimace and shiver again from the increasing cold.

Who is this person I call my tribute?

* * *

_Lilac Parrish (D6)_

I stare at the screen, just beginning to grasp what just happened. Maeve and Fern aren't in an alliance anymore? The thought is absurd, unbelievable. But it's true. It's true.

I grimace and look back at Blaise. He's almost as shocked as I am. But he'll be able to move on. I can't. Fern was Maeve's only protection. Fern was strong, Maeve is not.

I come to the grim reality. Maeve is going to be killed, maybe not now or any time today. Maybe not even tomorrow. But she's not going to win. Not without Fern. "We have to send them a message! We have to tell them to come back to each other."

Blaise gives me a pitying look. I've seen that look far too much in the past two months. "You know we can't send messages. Fern wouldn't listen, anyway. I used to believe she'd do whatever I told her, but now . . . no. Fern's not going to listen. . ." I listen to Blaise ramble about how he doesn't know her anymore.

"At least she has a chance," I whisper. "Maeve doesn't have a chance anymore. She's going to die." I feel a sob coming on, but fight it down.

I will not cry. I am not going to be weak anymore. I am going to be a strong woman. I'm going to watch Maeve die, but I won't cry. I'm going to leave Valor. I'm going to live my life by myself because it's the right thing to do. And I'm not going to cry about it. No more tears for Lilac. No, siree.

"You haven't told me yet," Blaise says suddenly. I grimace. I was hoping he had forgotten.

I shake my head. "I'm not going to whine about my problems any longer. It wouldn't be fair to you, to have to listen."

"I have nothing else to do at the moment," Blaise points out. "If I get bored, I'll let you know. Trust me."

I glare at him. He's mocking my epiphany, staining the greatness of it with his snide comments. "Don't talk to me."

I bury my face in my pillow. Blaise is quiet. I lay there. I almost suffocate out of my stubbornness about not lifting my head. I don't want to face what Blaise will say when I turn over. It will only make me feel worse.

"Lilac?" Blaise calls softly, his voice grim.

"Shut up!" My cry is muffled.

"Lilac, I need to lift your head. Now."

I want to scream at him to leave me alone, but I am silent. People that are strong do not throw tantrums like toddlers.

"Lilac," Blaise whines.

I lift my head. "Shut up!"

I glare at him, but he only stares back with sadness. He points to the screen. I look just in time to see an axe enter Maeve's chest. I cry out in shock and agony. She's already dead? How can that be? She can't be dead, already? Can she?

A cannon fires. No, _her_ cannon fires. She's dead. The grim reality washes over me like a tidal wave.

I want to abandon my new lifestyle, but I hold to it. I don't cry, but I do grieve. Blaise tries to comfort me, but I stop him with a raised hand.

"No."

I won't let anyone take care of me anymore.

* * *

_Aurora Fairchild (D11)_

After Olive kills Maeve, I feel slightly better about my tributes. Nine left.

District Eleven has a good chance this year. Now only if one more person could die, so I could turn that thought into evidence with a fraction or a percentage. I didn't go to school for very long. Some- like Laurel and Locust- go from when they are cute five-year olds to strong adults.

I did not. What was the point when you had to feed yourself? It's not like school matters to someone who's going to thresh wheat for the rest of their life.

On the screen it changes to a prettier scene- one that's not covered with Maeve's blood and Olive's guilt. It's the valley, sprinkled with white. I haven't seen my tributes on the screen since I sent those blankets and a small jacket that Zale has a hard time fitting into.

They still haven't spoken. I know Iris's death was hard for them, but this is too much for my frail mind. What if they split up? It wouldn't work. They draw too much strength from each other to have a chance alone.

I finally see their faces. Laurel looks at the snow with delight and dances in circles around Zale. I can tell that he wants to laugh, but the sound doesn't escape him. She stops abruptly and he almost walks into her.

"Didn't you like my dance?" Laurel whispers. Finally! Words! If I could move I would kiss the ground! But my excitement quickly fades. She's sad. So infinitely sad. She was only trying to cover it up with the dancing and laughter.

"It was fine," Zale snaps.

Laurel flinches. "I know you're mad, but please try. Try to forgive me."

His eyes soften. "I'm not mad."

He's not lying.

"You are," she continues. "I didn't know when I volunteered. I didn't know it would hurt this much to be here. I knew I'd be tired, and hungry, and thirsty. I knew that. I just didn't know I'd be this sad. Killing Maggie hurt. Watching Iris . . . die made me want to die with her. And you . . ." She trails off. Her eyes beg Zale to understand.

"You were expecting to win without any major problems. You weren't thinking that this would happen. You thought it'd be easy. But then, I . . ." They both seem unable to complete their sentences.

"You complicated things," she finishes with a grimace. They both stare at each other. It seems that neither one of them wants to look away.

"I do?" he asks finally, clearly surprised.

She nods. "I don't think I can do this. I don't think I can get out of here in one piece. It doesn't matter what I do, I lose."

She would lose more than what most victors lose. She loses her old life, her innocence, her future. But she also loses what is possibly her first love. I realize that District Eleven doesn't have a chance.

Zale never seemed like the type to be able to put his emotions into words. That's why it doesn't surprise me that he hugs her. That hug means more than I possibly can grasp. I sigh, annoyance eating its way through me.

Yep.

Not a chance in hell.


	30. Avoidance

**The Mentors**

**_Chapter Thirty_**

**_Day Four; Part Two_**

_Quinn McKinney (D8)_

I sigh.

Life is so boring when you're a mentor. Especially when your best friend out of the other mentors is avoiding you. I'm not an idiot. I know something changed last night, but I'm not going to acknowledge it.

I know what I feel, but I'm not going to stand for us to become awkward around each other. I'll deal with it. I swear if he doesn't talk to me before tonight, though, I'm going to march to his room and confront him about it. I think I am, at the very least . . .

"Damn it," I mutter after another ten minutes of silence. Barely anything is happening on the screen, and it doesn't matter to me anyway. My tributes are dead. But _still_, I'm forced to stay.

I walk out of the room and to the kitchen of the mentoring building. They always have elaborate food ready for us at all meals, but I don't usually get a chance to eat. By now, my tributes are usually dead.

But also by now, I'm usually racked with guilt in my room. The escorts used to bring me food to keep me from starving to death. I don't know if I'm happy or not that I've dealt with enough death not to be bothered by it as much anymore.

I grab a plate and fill it with eggs and bacon. I don't like pancakes and waffles; they're too sugary for me. Plus, I love bacon. I dance- literally- over to the refrigerator and grab a pack of juice. I sit at the counter, preparing myself for the experience of breakfast.

"I'm gonna . . . eat me some bacon . . . and then I'll feel good," I sing.

I hear a small chuckle and look over my shoulder. Of course it would be him.

I smile quickly and turn back to my food. Why does he have to come and ruin my mood with his stupid little voice that annoys me and attracts me all at the same time?

"Someone got up on the right side of the bed," Damon teases.

I nod without replying. I hear him sigh quietly. Maybe I should talk to him. But the part of me that's an idiot wins out again.

"Quinn, I . . . I have something to tell you." I feel his eyes probe me for any reaction. I shovel the food in my mouth. Just a few more bites and I can flee. "I think-."

"Sorry, Damon," I say, as I eat my last bite. "I have to go. The escort wanted to see me after I finished eating. Maybe we can talk later." I jog out of the room and when I know he can't see me anymore, break into a run.

It seems like a lifetime before I get to my room. I lock the door behind me and collapse onto my bed. I need to be alone.

After an hour, I realize that Damon's not avoiding me.

I'm avoiding him.

* * *

_Ronny Pied (D5)_

I suck in a breath. And then another. I tell myself to just keep breathing, just keep living, and it won't hurt anymore. But it hurts still. My heart burns with the thought of what has happened.

I lost my baby, and then I lost Iris. I didn't even have the energy to cry when I found out about her death.

Lifeless. The word runs through my mind. Is that what I am? Am I lifeless? I don't think I am, but others would most likely define me as that.

My head hurts and all I want to do is sleep. Sleep sounds good and warm. An inviting release from reality.

I use my last remaining energy to sit up and grab at a photograph of Kallen and I. We're both smiling, at each other, of course. I can't bring myself to smile. I can only think about how I might never find anything to make me smile again.

"Kallen," I whisper. "Oh, Kallen."

I thought I was strong, but now I know I'm wrong. I'm not strong. I'm weak, I'm everything I hate.

I lie back down and close my eyes. Sleep. I will my brain to drift. But it won't. I grimace and open my eyes. I close them again. Sleep, god damn it! I groan and try to roll over but unfortunately that "doctor" wanted to hook me up onto wires.

"Ronny?" the doctor's voice asks. I don't react. "Ronny? Someone is here to see you."

I open my eyes for a second and see Ivo. I close my eyes again.

Someone sighs and I expect it's that stupid doctor. I don't open my eyes when someone sits on the edge of my uncomfortable little bed. I know it's Ivo. I like knowing that he's there.

"It's Ivo," the doctor points out. "Maybe you should talk to him some. Gets some things off your mind." I grit my teeth, ready to choke the dumb man, but he walks away too quickly for my anger to grow violent enough.

I hear the door close and I feel Ivo's hand pat my foot. I open my eyes. His eyes widen. He probably didn't think I would react to his comforting . . . if you can call patting someone's foot comforting. But I still feel better.

My hand finds his scarred one.

"Thank you," I whisper.

* * *

_Damon Marx (D9)_

I don't know what to do. I don't know what to say. How can I just waltz into one of my good friend's room and declare that I might have feelings for them? Yeah, I don't do that.

Especially when I'm not even sure these are feelings in the first place and that I'm getting married. To the love of my life. So what the hell? Why do I even have a doubt in my mind that marrying Hope is the right thing to do?

"Damn it," I mutter, pacing around my room. I should be worried about Miles at this point, but _no_. I'm worried about my convoluted love life, of course. My Capitol fans would just eat this up if it somehow got out. Hope would be heartbroken and Quinn would be mortified.

I shake my head. No, no, no. But, maybe . . . no. An escort walks in suddenly, one I haven't been rude to. Great . . . just what I need.

A thought hits me. Maybe she can somehow help. I mean, she might be an idiot, but she's more likely to have been in this situation than any other person I know.

"Hey, um, what's your name?" I ask. I could care less what her name is, it just seems the most natural thing to do and I'm a little embarrassed by this conversation.

"Blossom," the escort says and then proceeds to giggle.

"So, Blossom," I say slowly, remembering to smile. "I have another question."

"Yes?" she asks coyly, with excessive fluttering of her eyelashes. I need to get this done fast or I'm going to lose it.

"What would you do if you thought you liked a friend of yours, but you're with someone else?" I ask.

The flirtatious light dims in her eyes. Blossom must have thought I was going to ask her on a date or something. How idiotic of her. "I, personally, would talk to the friend about it. Most of the time when you get feelings for really good friends it doesn't mean anything. It's just that the lines blur."

Wise words for a Capitol citizen. I think about it. "Maybe. Thanks . . . Blossom?"

"Anytime," she says in a seductive purr, her bright purple lips pursing.

Barf.

"Sure . . ." She walks out of the room and after a minute, I do the same. I walk to the District Eight room and knock on the door. Thank God, there's not a peep-hole or she'd never let me in.

The door opens slowly. Her warm brown eyes look through the crack. They quickly get an unhappy look. "Oh, it's you." She grimaces.

"I'm happy to see you, too," I snap.

She sighs and lets me in with a groan. I lean against the wall in the corner and she walks to the opposite side of the room to stand. It's like she can't stand to be more than a few feet near me.

"So, what do you want, Damon?"

"To talk," I reply.

"Do it, then," she says quickly.

"IthinkIhavefeelingsforyou," I blurt.

I can see understanding flash in her eyes. "Okay . . . I think you need to get over it. You have Hope. We're too good of friends for this kind of thing. Just let it go, Damon." I stare at her. "I'm tired. Can you leave now?"

"I . . . guess..?" I reply slowly. I walk out and lean against the wall. I slide to the floor slowly.

What the hell just happened?


	31. Questions

**The Mentors**

**_Chapter Thirty-One_**

**_Day Four; Part Three_**

_Ivo Wright (D1)_

Gaze was right to split from the Careers.

Anneliese and Zeke were so busy arguing they didn't notice him trekking away through the snow. They were both furious when they realized he had bailed. But I was oddly proud, considering I dislike the boy. Not as much as I hated Maggie, but dislike all the same.

He headed toward the former desert that is now . . . icy tundra? Eh. I'm not really sure what you would call it.

It's been a slow day for the tributes, except for the death of the girl from Six.

Anise, the girl from Twelve, was awarded a sponsor gift. She almost passed on at the sight of the throwing daggers, but I think she was hoping for food. She's been stealing food from the Cornucopia, along with Miles, but I believe if it went on for a month or two, she'd starve. It can't be that different from her home, though, can it?

"So," Gaze whispers to himself. "What to do?"

He's low on food, but not much else, so I spare a good bit of money to send him a few loaves of bread. He pumps his fist in the air with excitement when he sees the silver parachute. I smile at the gesture.

"Bread. Yummy." He eats a few bites with relish and saves the rest for later. Smart boy.

My stomach growls and I look at it with a grimace. I sigh and begin the journey to the kitchen. I spy a few hash browns laid out on a solid gold platter, which I'm sure cost more than the house I lived in before I won. I grab two and eat them on the way back to my room.

By the time I get back the peaceful nighttime shots have changed to showing two tributes in rapid succession. I'm truly sad to say that one of them is mine. "Oh, shit."

The other tribute it shows is Anise from Twelve. I breathe a sigh of relief, rubbing my temples. Gaze stares at his feet when he walks. Anise fiddles with a stray string on her jacket. They haven't noticed each other yet.

They are a few yards away from each other when Anise notices Gaze. She steps backwards and loses her balance. She falls into the snow making a soft 'pfft' sound, but it's enough to make Gaze look up.

He stares at her, long enough for the girl to make it to her feet. He unsheathes his sword and runs toward her.

She has four throwing knives. She shakily gets them out. The first one misses badly. The next is closer, but still misses. The third clips his shoulder. I wonder when he makes the kill if he'll have enough sponsor money to get bandages.

Anise is scared out of her mind and I'm sure that will throw off her aim, so I'm not worried when she throws the final dagger. But as it moves through the air, I can tell this one will hit its mark. It stabs into Gaze's chest and he looks down in surprise.

All I can think to say is, "Fuck."

* * *

_Garland "Garl" Riggs (D12)_

Of course this would happen. Of course my tribute would get this far and then lose. Gaze didn't stop running when the dagger entered his chest. I was cheering and he kept running. How he did, I don't know. But he kept going, and stabbed Anise with that huge sword of his. The look on her face . . . oh, the look on her face.

Surprise. Pain. Anger. Sorrow. "Oh, Anise."

They fall, holding onto each other as the life bleeds out of them. I hear a cannon, and look wildly at both of their faces. Gaze has gone blank, dead. Anise's eyes are agonized, hating herself for dying. For leaving her family. For them having to watch her die.

I don't cry. I can't. I only feel numb. Anise, one of my favorite tributes I've ever had, is dying. I can't watch this. My body moves without my brain consenting and in seconds I'm sitting in the hallway, opposite to my door.

I watch my hands twist together in my lap and wonder about the human race. I'm sure some of the Capitol people have the capacity to love someone deeply and unconditionally. I just don't understand how the same people that condemn innocent children to death can also love. How can they have children of their own and not see them in the sweet twelve-year olds? How can they not see themselves in some of the tributes? Can they not think of a moment in life when they were scared and not identify with the look of terror in the tribute's eyes?

"Garl, right?" a woman's voice asks. I look up to see Dara.

"Right," I murmur.

"So, I have some news for you, mister. I don't like it when people mope. So stop. And if you must continue, please enter your room, because I'm walking here." And just like that I'm transported back to the reality.

You don't question others or you get hurt in the world I live in.

It's time to put on a show, so Dara can't tell I'm falling apart. I grin cheekily. "You're walking here? Well excuse me, sweetheart."

I stand up and brush off my knees. I flick a stray piece of lint into her hair and walk into my room.

What in my life isn't a lie?

* * *

_Dexter Kane (D3)_

I miss my wife.

Though the thought of seeing her again plagues me.

I love her. But does she still love me?

Can Diana forgive me for how I've acted? Or will her love for me remain fractured forever? Will Connie ever forgive me? Will I have a daughter or a son? What will Diana name it? Will the baby be born before I get back?

These questions rack my brain and I _hate_ not knowing what the answers will be.

Maybe I don't want to know.

"Glitch, maybe, for a boy? Definitely Emerald for a girl. Diana might have different ideas though, so don't get your hopes up, Dex." I've been muttering to myself since I lost my tributes. I haven't been one for the public eye much, lately.

Again, the questions I don't want to be answered toy with my sanity. What would I do if Diana left me and took the baby with her? I push the questions from my mind once again.

I decide to just roll with the punches.

I can't change anything.

But that doesn't stop me from questioning every single detail of my life.


	32. Sorry: Part One

**A/N: The next three chapters will be devoted to the mentors of the final eight (final seven, actually) speaking to the tributes' families before they go to be interviewed. All of this takes place at a very early time in the fifth day of the Games.  
**

**The Mentors**

**_Chapter Thirty-Two_**

**_The Families_**

_Clubb Paige (D2)_

I sometimes hate it when my tributes make it to the final eight because I'm forced to talk to _every single family member_ before they go off to be interviewed.

The last time I mentored, one of my kids had _four_ siblings. _Four_. My pain is exactly why families should be forced to stop reproducing after their third bundle of joy.

"Mr. Paige?" a Capitol woman calls, her head barely through the door. "Mr. Maddox is here to see you."

"Let him in," I reply with a grimace.

A big man with curly, blond hair saunters in, before sitting in the chair across from me. "Hello, Mr. Paige, I'm Rex. Can I call you Clubb?"

"Sure," I answer, hope fading fast that I'll enjoy this.

"So, Clubb?" Rex asks. "What kind of chances do you think Zeke has at this point in the competition?"

"He has around a twenty-five percent chance, Rex." At least, I _think_ that's around the chance he has at this point. I'm not very good with numbers. "There's some stiff competition this year. I'll be perfectly honest with you, he's probably not going to make it out."

He smiles, standing. "That's what I'm hoping for, Clubb."

I know some families are screwed up but this is _pretty_ unusual. "What do you mean, Mr. Maddox?"

"You'll soon find out." He smiles. "It was nice meeting you, Clubb. I think I'll spend the rest of my time in the hallway."

He exits and I try to piece together what the hell he meant. I shake my head. None of my business, if he wants his son to die then so be it.

Why do I care, though? I've wanted the boy dead since I met him.

I realize something. I didn't get annoyed with the man or have urges to kill him. In fact . . . I haven't thought about tearing off someone's head in a _day_. Weird . . .

The damn woman pokes her head in again. "Hello, Mr. Paige? Mrs. Maddox is ready to see you."

It sounds like I'm going to a fucking doctor's appointment. I roll my eyes as the brunette enters. She sits where her husband did and doesn't speak a word. I stare at her, waiting for a greeting. She does nothing.

As I stare, I start to recognize her.

I know her father. "You're Abito's daughter, aren't you? Agrippa or Ahala?" Abito's other daughter was a blonde.

"I'm Ahala," the woman answers softly.

I smile grimly. "He always said you were his favorite."

"It is because I obeyed without question," she replies, voice robotic.

"Obeyed without question?" I ask slowly, curious against my better judgment.

"Of course. We are supposed to obey men without question. It's what we're made for. We were created to serve our fathers when we are young and, eventually, our husbands and sons." She looks down, bites her bottom lip, then back at me again. "We also must continue our husband's family line. It's an honor to say I was able to."

"Who do you mean by 'we?'"

Is there some cult I don't know about in District Two? Or is the woman crazy?

"Women, of course." She looks at me like _I'm_ the one that's crazy. No wonder Agrippa ran off to live with her grandmother. If I was told all I was good for was obeying and popping out babies, I'd be pissed off too. "Do you have a wife, Mr. Paige?"

"Nope." I grimace. "Not now, not ever."

"You must have a whore then." I feel like it should be phrased as a question, but it sounds like a statement coming from her.

A shocked noise comes from me. "I don't . . . have a . . ."

"You poor man," she coos, giving me a pitying look. "I do have a friend that might be interested in servicing you, if you're interested."

"No . . . thank you?" I shake my head wildly. I can't think of anyone in that way. Well, except for- I stop the thought there. No need to go poking around _that_ mine field.

The Capitol girl comes, taking Mrs. Maddox away.

I sigh in relief as the door closes. Thank Panem that dreadful woman is gone.

Of course, right when I get done with Mrs. Paige, her daughter comes in. I'm expecting a robot like her mother, but she plops into her chair with a groan. "Can I ask a favor?"

"Yes."

"Can you please not talk? I have the worst fucking headache."

I'm pleasantly surprised by her words. "Can I ask your name first?"

She glares. "Aurelia."

"I'm Clubb." She mutters and I cock an eyebrow. "Something to say?"

"Yes, I can think of a lot of things I would _love_ to say at the moment." She glares. It seems like the only expression she can make. "But I'll just stick with shut the hell up."

I roll my eyes.

We sit in silence for a minute or two and the sleeve of her shirt begins to ride up. Hiding under the sleeve is a bruise. She sees me staring and tugs it back down with a glare.

I return her look with a wide-eyed glance. The bruise was in the shape of a hand print wrapping around her arm. I can only imagine how much force it would take to leave a bruise like that. And the pain inflicted would be mild compared to what probably happened afterward.

I suddenly see what it must be like for Zeke. His father controls his mother and probably beats her when she disobeys. Ahala seems perfectly okay with it. And from what I've heard out of Aurelia she probably irks her father. I wonder if this happens all the time or because Zeke is gone?

"Zeke usually stops him." She seems close to tears and rightfully so. She's going to give me whiplash with this change in her. "It's only happened a few times when Zeke has been away. I . . . he can't die."

"I can't promise that he won't," I say, trying to be gentle but failing miserably. "But I'll try. And if he does, I can . . . help, I guess." I cringe at the sentence. Why am I promising to help her? I don't even know her.

She wipes the tears away and attempts a smile, but it doesn't work out very well. The woman takes her away and I groan once the door closes. Rex- I've come to realize- should be killed. But, unfortunately, I cannot do it. One, it's none of my damn business. Two, I'd most likely go to jail.

"Cita Buckley is here to see you," the woman calls, her pink head appearing in my door. A wrinkled old woman walks in with a cane and I scratch my head in confusion.

"You should be happy," the old woman croaks as she sits. "I'm your last of the day."

"What about her mom and dad?" I ask without thinking.

"Dead, along with her two younger sisters. They died in a fire _years_ ago. Anneliese was the only one that made it out."

Well, it didn't take long for this conversation to turn awkward. "I'm sorry."

"I got over it _years_ ago." Apparently, she likes to put emphasis on the word years.

"You know those Maddox people? Well, they sure are weird. I'll have to tell Indus when I get back just how weird they are. You know Indus, don't you? Wonderful man, that Indus. I couldn't live without his friendship. Do you know Herma Walker? The poor girl's child- oh, what was her name? - Auila! Well, she died right before I came here.

"Poor Herma was distraught. I can't very well comfort her; I don't do well with sobbing messes. And I told her . . ." She went on and on and on. And then repeated.

I _definitely_ understand now why Anneliese barely ever left the training center. She had to go home to _this_ woman.

"Well, Anneliese must have _loved_ growing up with you," I say, cutting into her rant about the time Anneliese and a friend of hers stole a lollipop when they were young.

"I don't believe she did, actually," Cita replies. "She took every chance she got to get out of the house. We aren't very close." The escort comes in exactly when I roll my eyes. Cita's eyes narrow at the gesture but she doesn't have time to yell at me or hit me the cane.

Once they both exit, I close my eyes and sigh.

It's _over_.

* * *

_Aurora Fairchild (D11)_

I'm unhappy to say that I'm scared of what will be said when I meet my tributes' parents. Will they scold me for letting this happen on their watch? Will they be okay with it? What if their oblivious to the fact that their child has fallen in love at the worst possible moment?

I don't know anyone to ask for advice, I don't think anything like this has ever happened.

Another thing I've barely ever experienced is how good of a chance my tributes have. Locust was an underdog at the very best and he somehow came out on top. Laurel and Zale are the favorites of the Capitol and aren't underdogs in the slightest.

"Ms. Fairchild?" a bubblegum pink-haired Capitol citizen called from the doorway. "Mr. Farley is here!"

"Okay?" I ask slowly and when she keeps giving me an expectant look, I roll my eyes. "He can come in."

"Hello, Aurora," Jay Farley says with a strained smile as he enters. "It's nice to see you."

I've spoken to him a few times at parties I attended. His light brown hair looks uncharacteristically untidy.

"It's not nice to see you here, Jay," I sigh. "I'm so sorry."

"It's not like she's dead," Jay snaps. "She's _not_ dead."

"I know she's not, but you should be prepared for the worst."

He glares at me. "She's not going to die!"

I stare at him in surprise and he glares viciously. "Okay, okay. So what do you want to know?"

"Why in the _hell_ did she volunteer?" he asks through gritted teeth. "If I'd known when I hired Locust to train her that she'd do this . . ." He puts his face in his hands.

"She wasn't planning on volunteering," I inform him quietly. "It was the girl that was reaped . . . she was only thirteen."

"I don't care how old the girl was!" he yells violently. "That's my daughter in there."

I shrink back. "I understand."

"You don't understand. You just don't."

I watch as he unravels in front of me and shudder at the thought of a child of mine being sentenced to death.

"Laurel was always really independent," he tells me suddenly. "She always wanted to do everything by herself. She was angry with me for a month when I made her train with Locust. She really hated him to begin with."

"I thought they always got along," I blurt out.

"Not at all," he responds with a laugh. "When she was eleven she would come home every day talking about how stupid he was. She always made me laugh."

"Mr. Farley!" the Capitol woman trills, entering the room. "Your time is up, babe!"

Mr. Farley rolls his eyes at the woman and mutters a goodbye to me. "

Bye," I murmur, as they exit. I sit in silence, preparing myself for the travesty that will be Rubi Farley. The woman has never been known for her stoicism.

"Ms. Fairchild!" the escort screeches, looking wildly uncomfortable. "Mrs. Farley is here to see you!"

In comes a sobbing mess. My eyes widen in surprise and I shrink back as Rubi flings herself into the chair. I suppose, normally, her shirt would be a light blue, but at this point it's closer to navy.

"Rubi? Are you . . ." I trail off, not finishing the sentence. "Would you like a tissue?"

She just continues to cry. I stare at her as she sobs uncontrollably into the chair.

Poor chair.

I give her an expectant look, hoping it will pull her together somehow.

"Why is this happening?" Rubi wails. "My baby."

"It's not your fault," I soothe.

"I was supposed to protect her. That was my job!"

I close my eyes. I've heard this many times before. "Sometimes . . . no matter what you do . . . you can't."

It doesn't seem to be helping, if anything she's crying harder now. Damn it.

I don't know what to say and she's too caught up in her despair to even notice that I'm trying to console her. The Capitolite comes in minutes later, looking aggravated at poor Rubi.

"Could you _please_ make her stop crying? I don't care if her daughter's going to die she's giving me a fucking headache," The woman whines. What a bitch.

"Shut your damn mouth," Rubi snaps harshly before I can insult the Capitol girl.

The woman's mouth hangs open in shock. "Ex_cuse_ me? Who do you think you are other than District trash?"

Let's just say dear Rubi doesn't take kindly to being called trash. Rubi decided to show Capitol Woman what a fist connecting with your plastic nose feels like. Capitol Woman does not like to being punched nor does she hit Rubi back. I watch the two fight with a sort of amusement. One, because Rubi is kicking Capitol Woman's ass and most likely wouldn't get in trouble for it because of Laurel. Two, it is taking away from the rest of my time with family members and I find that _hilarious_.

Capitol Woman finally has the sense to run from the room. Rubi follows slowly, looking tired. Mrs. McKay sticks her head in the door a few seconds later, biting her bottom lip, but not crying.

"What happened to that woman? She was bleeding _everywhere _and screaming about their being a crazy bitch."

I snort. "Rubi Farley happened."

"Oh . . . You mean that rich white woman. Laurel's mama?" she asks.

"Yes. Laurel is definitely Rubi's daughter." I shake my head with a smirk.

"You can call me Lettie, if you like," Mrs. McKay says. "It's a nickname I've had since I was a baby. My real name is Ringlet."

"You were named after curly hair?" I ask, with a cocked eyebrow.

Lettie laughs. "I think it's a kind of butterfly, actually."

"Oh . . . right?" I say slowly.

"So what's with that Laurel girl?" Lettie asks suddenly. "Is it some sort of trick on my Zale, because if it is . . ." She trails off, shaking her head.

"What . . . what do you mean?" I ask.

I really don't want to have this conversation, but she's already brought it up, so . . .

"You are an educated woman, Ms. Fairchild. And I think we both know what I'm talkin' about."

I sigh heavily. "It's a very delicate situation, Mrs. Fairchild. They . . . they seem to be . . . in love?"

She barks out a grating laugh. "_Love_? What do they know about love? They only know about lust."

I blink my eyes slowly, trying to grasp her meaning. "They've barely touched each other."

"Don't be fooled by what you see them like on camera. If they weren't here, they'd be all over each other."

"Anyone that feels that way about each other would be," I rationalize.

"Enough," she thunders, making me stare at her with wide eyes. "I don't want to hear about my son's _fling_."

She stalks out of the room and I stare after her. I wonder why she's so _angry_.

I think about it and come to the conclusion that Zale and Calliope's father is not in the picture. Little Calliope McKay walks into my room and I smile warmly at her.

Rubi's tears, I can take. But I don't know if I can deal with Calliope crying.

"Hello, Ms. Fairchild."

"Call me Aurora."

"I'm Calliope, but I like Calli better."

"Okay then, _Calli_. So what do you want to talk about, sweetie?" I ask.

"That girl," Calli says with a wrinkled nose. She obviously doesn't like Laurel at all. "I don't like her."

I find myself snapping at her. "Her name is Laurel and I'd like you to call her by her name instead of 'that girl', if you don't mind."

She looks at me sharply. "She's . . . I can't stand her. I hate her guts."

I hesitate. "And why do you say that when you don't know her?"

The thirteen-year old looks at the ground. "I . . . she . . . I . . ."

"Is it because you think he might leave you . . . for her?" I ask quietly. We both know what I mean. That he'll die for Laurel. That he'll leave both her and Lettie on their own.

"Let's talk about something else."

"Where is your father?" I ask without thinking. "I'm sorry; you don't have to answer that."

"Left," she spit out, containing too much anger for a little girl. "He never married my mom; he was too rich and _upper-class_ for that. He told her she should be _honored_ because he stayed with her for ten years. Then he left her and married some other woman. They have three kids now. My half-siblings."

I look at her for a long time, trying to think back to a marriage I must have heard about. Seven years ago I would be twenty-four. Around that time I believe Grain Heckle and Mead Williams were married. Grain is very rich, and he has three kids now. And those eyes of his . . . the same blue as Calli and Zale's.

"I am _so_ sorry."


	33. Sorry: Part Two

**The Mentors**

**_Chapter Thirty-Three_**

**_The Families_**

_Hazel Birchbark (D7)_

This shit sucks.

Why do we have to do this? When we get home, we're forced to talk to the families anyway, so why do we have to it now too? Some things just piss me off. Like this.

I'm supposed to be in my room already, waiting for my "new friends," but I'm in the kitchen eating a hot dog instead.

"Hazel." The voice sounds hesitant and then I hear the person sigh. The person obviously wishes they never would have said anything at all.

I look up to see Clubb. "Hi."

"Aren't you supposed to be talking to Olive's family right now?" he asks.

I snort, but I'm also surprised that he knows Olive's name. "I could say the same thing to you."

"I'm already done," Clubb replies. I don't say anything. "So . . . how are you?"

"Why do you care?" I ask harshly, wishing he'd just leave.

"I don't," he replies quickly, not sounding very convincing. "Just making conversation."

I shake my head in anger. "Why are you even trying to talk to me?"

"Why do you keep asking so many damn questions?" he demands. "I'm trying here, so why do you have to question everything that I do?

"It's not you, though," I exclaim. "You don't _try_ for anyone."

"That's supposed to be true," he mutters with a frustrated look.

"What does 'supposed to be true' mean?" I ask loudly.

"I . . . nothing." He shakes his head and begins to walk away. "It means absolutely nothing."

I sigh. I was so angry with Clubb, but I just don't see the point in it anymore. It's Clubb, that's how he is. But who is this person that just talked to me? The person who seemed like he could possibly care. I shake my head rapidly. Clubb is a cruel person that enjoys hurting other people and that's who he will always be.

I walk quickly back to my room and the Capitol woman is glaring at me as I walk up to her. "You were supposed to be here five minutes ago!"

I glare. "Shut the fuck up."

She gives me an aghast look, and I walk past her into the room where a brown-haired woman sits. She watches me as I sit down, eyes narrowed in annoyance.

"Yes?" I ask.

"You're five minutes late," she states.

"I've realized that."

"You're _late_." She says the word like it's dirty and gives me the worst glare I've ever been given.

"I understand," I say through gritted teeth. The woman's really starting to piss me off.

"You're throwing off the whole schedule! You're inviting in chaos!" she exclaims, looking like she's about to pull her hair out.

"What the fuck-."

"How could you say that word?" she gasps. "How do you look at yourself when you use that kind of language?"

My mouth is hanging open and I stare at her in shock. "What is your freaking problem, lady?"

She stares at me in shock. "What did you just say to me?"

"I asked you what your problem was? Apparently, you have many."

She glares at me. "Do you know who I am?"

I roll my eyes. "I'm guessing Mrs. Battle."

"Don't you dare use that tone of voice with me, Birchbark." _Wow_. No one has ever called me by my last name. I blow out an aggravated breath and realize I don't want to fight anymore.

"Okay. I'm sorry I was late. Happy?" She gives me an expectant look. "And for cursing." She glares and I sigh. "And for being rude, in general." She stares at me and then gives me a small smile.

"I . . . forgive you." She frowns. "Why do you have green in your hair?"

"I like it," I say, gritting my teeth. "Why does it matter?"

She wrinkles her nose. "You remind me of those Capitol girls."

Anger feels me. "Can you please not say things like that?" I deserve a pat on the back for being so freakin' nice.

"I'm not trying to be rude, just stating an observation," Mrs. Battle says in that condescending tone. I force myself not to roll my eyes. I don't say anything and hope that the Capitol woman that brought Mrs. Battle in here will hurry up and take her away. My hopes are not fulfilled.

"So, you're name is Hazel, am I correct?" she says, obviously trying to break the ice. No amount of chatter could do anything now that I've made up my mind about her.

"Yes."

"I'm Gum."

"Gum?" I ask, dubiously. Who would name their kid _Gum_? I look down so that I can roll my eyes. How can Olive stand to live with this woman? She's a living nightmare of mine. I don't like anyone that tries to tell me what to do.

"Yes, Gum," she says with a slight smile. "So who are your parents? I'm _sure_ I'll know them. I've memorized almost all the people's names in District Seven. It is _quite_ the accomplishment."

I stare at her. "My parents are dead."

Her face whitens. "Oh, gosh, how could I forget? I am _so_ sorry for mentioning them."

"Yeah, whatever." I look at the ground.

"If I may ask . . ." Gum begins. "How did they die? I've forgotten."

"House fire," I say with a grim smile. "Apparently, they're _really_ common." From the look I give her I can tell she understands. My parent's deaths were no accident.

The reason my parents were killed is not something I openly speak of. Let's just say the president ordered me to do something that I would _never_ agree to. Sometimes I'm happy that I'm ugly now . . . at least no one in the Capitol wants me anymore.

I used to be pretty before I had my "accident." I don't really remember much of it, just that it hurt. I was in a hovercraft, it was a year after my parents were killed and I was seventeen. It caused major scarring on the right side of my face.

"That's too bad." Gum grimaces. "I'm-."

"Don't say you're sorry," I snap. "I've had enough of people saying they're sorry. It's not like them saying it will change anything. At the end of the day, my parents are still dead."

At least she doesn't berate me for using that tone of voice with her. Maybe she gets that I really don't need any of that shit right now. Finally the Capitol woman comes to get Gum. I stare at the ground for a long time, feeling almost nothing. But in the back of my mind, there's always that guilt and sadness. _I_ was the one that killed them. If only I had agreed . . .

The door slams open and I look up, startled. The Capitolite looks bored and pops her gum. "Hazel this is Abel Battle. Abel this is Hazel. Converse."

"Oh, that's a big word," I mock.

She glares at me before shoving a man with black hair into the room. He gives her a nasty look before walking over to the couch. He gives me a shy glance before looking down.

"As you heard from the crazy bitch, I am Hazel Birchbark." I smile. "Your daughter's mentor."

"I know," he says quietly. Suddenly, silence greets us again. He's not going to make this easy, is he?

"So your wife is . . . interesting."

He looks up at me. "She can be a little overbearing sometimes, yeah."

"A _little_," I reply incredulously. "She's definitely a trip."

"True," he mutters. "So, what is Olive's strategy for the end?"

"Well, we both didn't really expect her to get this far. But we still discussed it." I frown. "She pretty much has to find people and kill them. It's the only way for her to win. I really hope the two from Two get in a big fight. One will be killed and another will be wounded at the very least. The Careers have taken a beating this year."

"Well, that's . . . good?" He makes it sound like a question, so I answer it like I would a question.

"Pretty good."

"The boy from Nine and the girl from Ten will probably go soon." I grimace now. "But that will leave her with some competition. The Elevens aren't leaving each other for anything and the Twos are formidable apart, even worse together."

"I know." He is silent again. This man just doesn't like to talk, or in the Capitol woman's words, _converse_.

"So, you don't want to talk. I get it."

I just tap my foot, impatient, until the woman comes to take him away. I scowl at nothing in particular. From what I know about Olive, she has a younger sister. So hopefully this girl will be the last person I have to speak to today.

A little girl- from the look of her, she's around eleven- with brown hair and glasses enters. She's a cute little girl. I'm sure she gets picked on, though, because of the glasses. How did they afford those things anyway? According to Olive, there's not a lot of money to go around in their family.

"Hello, miss," the little girl squeaks, seems like she's afraid of me. She sits down quickly.

"Hey," I reply. I _do_ like kids as long as I know I can give them back. "What's your name?"

"Asa," she whispers.

"How are you, Asa?" I ask.

"Not very good." Damn. She looks like she's about to cry.

"It's okay." I try to sound soothing, but I don't think I do. Little tears leak out of the corners of her eyes. "Don't cry."

"But she's going to die!" she yells. "She can't just _leave_ me! Who's going to be there for me when I have nightmares? Who's going to help me out when those girls at school pick on me! What am I supposed to do without her?"

This girl is having a major meltdown and I have no idea what to do. I can't _hug_ her or anything. I don't know this girl. It would be weird. I stare at the little girl in shock, not knowing what to do for at least five minutes.

"She won't die," I suddenly blurt out. Oh _shit_.

The girl perks up. "You don't think she will?"

"N-No. I think she'll win . . . I hope she will."

What the fuck did I just do?

"Your really think that?" Asa asks with wide, hopeful eyes.

"Yeah," I squeak. I just gave this girl hope . . . You can't _ever_ give them hope. Oh no. I just ruined this girl's chances of _not_ being that devastated. Now she won't be expecting it because "well, the mentor said."

What the mentor says is bullshit. They _never_ tell you the real truth. They're just sugar-coating. I can't believe I just did that. I never do that!

She is silent for a long time, then wipes her tears away. "Thank you."

I can't do anything now. I can't just be like, "Oh, now that I think about it, she really _doesn_'t have a chance." I can't say shit like that!

The girl is quiet like her father and doesn't speak for the rest of our time. I worry the whole time, too stressed out to say another word. The woman takes the child away.

Fuck my life.

* * *

_Damon Marx (D9)_

This is not what I wanted to be doing. What I want to be doing is figuring out what I should do about the . . . developments . . . of yesterday. But instead, I'm going to talk to Miles' family.

Quinn hasn't talked to me. Not really surprised on that front, the way she turned me away. The same questions plague me.

Do I really have feelings for Quinn? I'm not sure. Or do I really love Hope? I think I do.

Nothing is certain with me anymore. Ask me before I came here what I expected my life to be like in ten years? I would have said without hesitation that I would be married to Hope and have a kid or two. I'd be mentoring still, and hopefully I'd have brought a tribute home by then. Now I'm not so sure. What am I supposed to do if I _don't_ love Hope anymore? How would I tell her that when she loves me so much?

I am shaken from my thoughts when Blossom bursts in with the mayor's wife. I'm surprised though I shouldn't be. I knew Piper was Miles's mom, I just haven't thought about it.

My mother is friends with Piper, so by default, our families are close. I wasn't ever close with Miles like I am with Cani, the older child. I guess it's the age difference.

Blossom looks happy to see me. "Hello Damon!"

"You're the one they got to do this?" I ask with a grimace.

"No, silly! The girl that is supposed to be doing this had a little . . . confrontation with a tribute's mother." She giggles. "So they got me to do it! Isn't that so weird?"

"Disturbingly weird," I say with a fake smile. Blossom leads the woman onto the couch, gives me a wink, and then departs. I groan and look up at Piper. "See this is what happens when you actually talk to one of them."

"That's why I don't talk to them," Piper agrees with a smile. "How are you, Damon?"

"Stressed out . . . Though I guess you are too?" She nods. "How are you?"

"Could be better, although, it could be worse."

"How could it possibly be worse?" I ask.

"Well Cani could be a tribute, too," she points out. "Miles could have already lost." I see the pain in her eyes when she says the last word, knowing she's thinking about what losing entails.

"True." I smile. "How's Micah?"

"He's being . . . not himself." She frowns. "We've gotten a few cards. He's thrown them all in the fire and vowed not to write a thank you note."

I wince. "That bad, huh?"

Since Micah is the mayor, he is usually a very nice man. When you send him a card, you _always_ get a thank you note.

Not that I've ever sent him a card.

"Compared to some of the families that this has happened to, we're doing pretty good, right?" she asks.

I give her a questioning look. "Very good."

"Micah wanted us to keep up appearances. He's such the politician." She rolls her eyes, but I see the heartbreak beneath them.

"Why, though?" I ask. "You should be able to show what you're _really_ feeling."

"It's fine, Damon." She frowns. "I didn't expect you to understand anyway."

"I hope I don't ever get to understand," I say.

"That would be such rotten luck, wouldn't it?" she says. "I don't even want to think about how Hope would react if that happened to you two." There it is. An unintentional sword to my chest. Of course she would bring up Hope, though. But why did she have to mention children in the mix?

"Yeah." I frown.

She gives me a curious look. "I can tell you have something to say. You only have a minute or two to say it, Damon."

I sigh. Of course Piper would notice. "I don't want to talk about it. Can I just say I'm sorry for whatever happens to Miles?"

"What if he wins? He'll be fine."

"We both know that he won't be fine. You have to start facing the facts about what this kind of game does to you."

Her face is calm, but her eyes show anger. "Don't you think I'm facing the facts? Every day I look at my television screen and see his face, I'm facing the facts. The fact of the matter is, he probably won't make it out. And I'm so mad at myself for thinking that it might be the better option."

"Piper-."

"Damon, I don't want to hear it. Maybe it's better that he dies instead of turn into a monster."

"I'm not a monster," I point out. "I was only a year older than him when I went in and I'm _not_ a monster."

And suddenly, a horrible thought crosses my mind. Maybe I _am_ a monster. Only a horrid person would do what I'm doing to Hope. She loves me so much, and I'm being horrible to her. I realize that I can't do this to Hope. I have to push aside whatever I'm feeling and try to make it work. For her.

"Mrs. Sanford, it's time for you to go!" Blossom crows from the doorway. I look up and mutter a goodbye to Piper before she walks out of the door. The door closes and I am in silence for a few moments.

"Damon! Mr. Sanford is here to see you!" Blossom screeches before leading in Mayor Micah Sanford. She comes up to me and whispers in my ear, "I want you to know that even if you're seeing someone else, my bed is always open." I close my eyes and breathe through my nose trying not to scream at the delusional woman.

"Thanks for telling me," I hiss. Blossom leaves with an unsatisfied expression. Micah looks at me with a raised brow. "She's got it bad for me."

He snorts and sinks down onto the couch. "I never thought you'd be that nice to someone from the Capitol."

"I've got a soft spot for dear Blossom." I roll my eyes. "Being truthful, she gave me some advice and I kind of owe her. So I let her keep her ignorant little fantasies."

"Gotcha," he mutters. "So how's mentoring treating you?"

"Gotta say, it's not the best," I reply. "But I did get a tribute to the final seven!"

He grins. "I knew Miles would do good. He's a real smart boy. I'm so sure he'll make it out."

"I'm hoping he'll make it out, too." I pause. "I heard from your wife that you refuse to send thank you notes."

"They're a bunch of bastardly cowards!" he explains. "If they want to say sorry they should say it to my _face_!"

"Is bastardly even a word?"

"No, but it's got a certain ring to it, don't you think?" he asks.

I laugh. "It certainly does."

He frowns. "If it's not a word, it sure as hell needs to be."

I laugh again. This is why Micah is the mayor. He can make anyone laugh and I don't know one person that doesn't like him. But he is the kind of person that most people are only friends with, he's too busy to be anyone's best friend. "Has Vardi tried to become mayor, while you're 'emotionally distressed?'"

He shakes his head slowly. "I swear the _minute_ the reapings were over he was already talking to the Head Peacekeeper about it. I literally wanted to shank him."

If I wasn't depressed I would probably fall out of my chair from laughing, but I didn't have the heart to do anything but laugh softly. "Of course, you would say something like that."

"It's true." Blossom comes in to get Micah and I wave to say goodbye. I really don't want to know what will happen to him if Miles dies. He'll be devastated.

"Damon?" an eighteen-year old I know well asks. Cani Sanford stands in the doorway with a smile, yet her eyes are sad. "I've missed you."

Cani is one of my better friends. We didn't run with the same crowd when we were in school, but our families were close so we sort of grew up together.

"I've missed you too." Cani's blue eyes soften. I think- this is only a feeling here- that she might have feelings for me. But I've only ever felt brotherly love towards her.

"It's been horrible," she says as she falls into the couch. "Dad has been off his rocker and then he says we have to act like Miles isn't in the Hunger Games! How fucked up is that?"

"Don't talk like that about him." I say with a smile. "He's going through a lot."

"I'm going through a lot, too, you know." She groans. "And I'm not acting like a crazy bitch, am I?"

"Well . . ."

She gives me an outraged look and hits me on the shoulder. "Take that back!"

I shrug. "You know I was only kidding. I wish Miles wasn't in there."

"Ditto."

I smile. "You seem okay?"

"Miles is gonna win. He's too smart for those other tributes. You know who I love though?" I give her an expectant look. "That District Eleven bitch. She's hilarious."

"She is kind of funny," I agree with a grin. More of the sarcastic funny, which makes it easy for her to seem like a bitch, though. "Of course _you_ would like her."

"What's that supposed to mean?" she asks with a small smile.

"Nothing," I say.

And then Blossom enters, looking a tad bit jealous. "It's time for you to go, Cain."

"It's _Cani_," Cani hisses. I snort as Blossom escorts her out, that went by fast.

Maybe Blossom got her earlier than she should have? I roll my eyes.

I'm happy that I got to talk to them, they made me a bit happier than I would've been with another family. But it's also the worst thing ever, because I'm not sure if I can get Miles out of that arena alive.


	34. Sorry: Part Three

**A/N: Blaise chapter, for the win!**

**The Mentors**

**_Chapter Thirty-Four_**

**_The Families_**

_Blaise Calder (D10)_

"I'll be fine, Lilac," I assure. "It'll only last an hour. I think I can make it that long without supervision."

"Blaise," she whines, worrying her bottom lip. "The doctor told me not to let you out of my sight." I roll my eyes at her.

I feel like I'm ten-years old again and the feeling is not welcome.

"So, when are you going to tell me that big secret of yours?" I ask, faking innocence.

She glares at me and stalks out of the room. The thing with Lilac is she's very moody. One minute she says she'll tell you why she's sad and the next she glares every time you speak of it.

Women are so complicated.

I fall back onto my bed and count the tiles on the ceiling. _1, 2, 3 . . . 34, 35, 36 . . ._

"Mr. Calder!"

I sit up quickly in panic. "What the hell are you doing here, Grandma?" I blush, realizing it is not my grandmother. It's a young- well, she looks young- Capitol woman.

"You were sleeping! Should I remind you of your duties as a mentor!" The Capitol woman glares as at me. "How could you forget about talking to Fern's family?" I rub the sleep from my eyes and proceed to glare at her. Of course, I remembered. I just . . . fell asleep. No big deal.

"The nerve!" She screeches and stomps out, coming back seconds later with a woman with curly, red hair. If I saw this woman on the street I would know she was Fern's mother. They look like twins, only Fern has green eyes and her mother has a few more wrinkles.

"You look a lot like Fern," I say with a smile.

"People always say that." Her smile is grim. "I'm Constance."

She sticks out her hand and I take it gratefully. She's trying to make this easy for me. I like her.

"It's nice to meet you."

"I feel the same way, really I do," she assures me. "It's just the circumstances aren't the greatest." She looks at the ground and back up at me. She forces a smile, which looks more like a grimace.

"I understand," I say with a small smile. "Don't apologize for that."

"I'm not usually this rude," she says. If she think she's rude right now, I wonder what her warm welcome would be like. "My husband and I _know_ that Fern will win. She's gotten this far, so how can she not?"

I try not to let my emotions show on my face. There are still two Careers left and those Eleven tributes. And the Seven girl is pretty good too. "Of course she will."

I'll feel bad later for giving her false hope, but I just can't tell her the real odds for her daughter.

She smiles. "I'm so happy that you feel the same way. Lee doesn't believe us when we say she is coming home."

"Lee?"

"My son," she informs me.

"Oh." I grimace. "How old is he?"

She smiles, not noticing how unhappy I am. "He's nine. The baby of the family."

Their nine-year old understands that Fern isn't coming home, so why can't they?

"I'm so glad that I'll get to meet him." How am I supposed to do this? All the other mentors have been mentoring for at least a year or two, but this is my first time. How did they do this?

"You're a good mentor," she compliments. "It's your first year and you got a tribute to the final seven!"

"Well, thank you," I say. "But I'm not the one to compliment. When you see your daughter again, you should tell her how good she did." I wince after I say the words but she doesn't notice. "But thank you, anyway."

"Of course I will!" she says. "Your welcome."

The Capitol woman slinks in. "Mrs. Carver it's time time to go!"

Constance says goodbye before following the woman out the door. I sit on a chair and cover my mouth with my hand. I scream away the anger and fear.

When Mr. Carver makes his appearance, I'll be ready.

Mr. Carver turns out to be a black-haired man who moves to a new spot in the room every few seconds. He carries a notebook around and looks through it wildly every minute or so.

"Your last name is so weird!" he says in a sing-song voice. "Cauldron is a nice name."

"It's Calder," I correct.

He stares at me, looking like he's just seen a wild animal. "_Calder_? Well, that's weird, too! Please tell me that you know Dr. Rosay Thornton... _no_? Well he is the best psychiatrist I've ever had. He's a miracle worker, that one."

"Rosay? And he's a guy?" I say with a smirk. That's the only thing in the conversation I can latch onto that doesn't make me uncomfortable.

Mr. Carver's green eyes narrow in anger. "Do not pick on Rosay, Mr. Cauldron! He's a very smart man and just because his name is a . . . what were we talking about again?" I was holding out hope that he wasn't crazy but there's no denying it now. "_A flower! His name sounds like a flower!_"

"Oh Lord," I mutter under my breath, "What's your name, Mr. Carver?"

"Mr. Carver, of course!" he says with a crazed grin. Why do I have to talk to the crazy person?

"I mean your first name," I say slowly and at his blank expression I sigh. "Like my first name is Blaise . . ."

"_Ohhhhhhh_," he says, dragging the word out. "My first name is . . . I don't know if I should tell you . . . It's really personal."

I groan, "It's okay. I don't have to know."

"But I consider you a really close friend of mine . . . almost like a brother, of sorts . . . so I think you should know." He whispers it, like it's some government secret, "My first name is Rodney."

He gets all teary-eyed. "So now you know! I wish I had a camera, this is _such_ a huge moment for us."

"Huge," I mutter sarcastically and then I loudly say, "It was so nice to meet you, Mr. Carver. Would you like to talk about Fern now?"

"_Fern_!" he whispers, mouth agape. "You know where my Fern is?"

"You don't know where she is?" I ask slowly.

Things suddenly come into place. The only reason Mr. Carver thinks Fern is coming home is because he doesn't know where the hell she is, and the only reason Constance believes is because someone has to.

"Fern was taken . . . taken somewhere by bad people! My wife was just talking about . . ." He trails off and then looks confused. "_Who_ are you?"

"Blaise Calder." At his still confused expression I continue, "Your daughter's . . . friend." I'm not going to be the one to tell him that his daughter is in a life or death situation.

His eyes narrow. "Are you that good-for-nothing boyfriend? Because if so, I'm going to kick your ass."

"_Huh_?" I ask, shock clearly in my voice.

He must take my shock as a conformation. "You piece of shit! You got her . . . got her . . ." He collapses into tears. So much for kicking my ass.

"_What_?" I have a sneaking suspicion that Fern isn't as innocent as she seems.

"Sorry for my outburst, Mr. Calder. It happens sometimes." Mr. Carver looks very sane now, straightening his tie. I wonder what caused the change in him.

"What were you saying about Fern's boyfriend?" I demand. His eyes show confusion but revelation soon dawns.

"Did I say something about Miller?" Rodney asks. "Sorry, if I did, but I can't tell you. Personal."

"Mr. Carver," I say to get his attention though I already have it. "Did Fern . . . have a baby?"

His eyes show outrage. "Yes."

"How long ago was it?" I ask, the curiosity eating at me.

"Three years." She was _thirteen_?

"Who's watching the baby?" I ask.

"The baby? I never met the baby."

"What do you mean?" I ask, not wanting to know what I'm about to hear.

"She left it on the doorstep of the orphanage . . . we couldn't afford the thing."

I find myself shaking in anger and a memory pops into my head from almost half a year ago.

_A knock at the front door shakes me from my reverie. I perk up thinking it could be Nova. She stops by often, and I wonder if she's trying to give me a clue as to what she wants next in our relationship._

_Nova's pretty eyes are the first thing I see when I open the door. "Hey."_

_She smiles. "Hi."_

_I begin to lean into a kiss when I notice the bundle of blankets in her arms. "What's that?"_

_Her smile fades. "Blaise . . . you know I wouldn't be asking if there was any other way."_

_Fear makes my breathing become shallow. "Nova . . . is every thing okay?"_

_"It's a baby."_

_Shock courses through my veins as she pulls the blankets down to reveal a baby. The first thing I notice is the bright red hair of the child, and I realize the baby is sleeping. I look back up at her and I feel anger creeping in with the rest of my emotions._

_"What the hell?" I ask, my voice harsher than I meant it to be._

_She flinches. "The orphanage didn't have any room for her and I was scared about what they would do with her if no one took her. I would take her to my house if I could, but I don't have any _room_ at my house-."_

_"You think _I_ have any room?" I yell._

_She glares. "I'm not asking that you take her in-."_

_"Then what the hell are you here for?" I ask._

_"If you would let me finish!" she yells back. I'm appropriately shamed. "I was wondering if you knew anyone that wanted a baby."_

_I think for a moment. "No. I can't think of anyone." _

_She looks down and bites her bottom lip. "I don't know what to do Blaise."_

_I sigh as she shows the beginnings of tears. "Don't cry."_

_One tear leaks out and I wipe it up with a finger. "I just can't let her die."_

_I groan, just knowing I'm going to regret this. "If it make you happy the baby can stay here."_

_She smiles and tears become tears of joy. "You really mean that?"_

_Unfortunately, dear Nova, I do. "__I'd do anything to make you happy."_

_I realize that I really do mean it. I love this infuriatingly wonderful person. I can't imagine being with anyone else. "You know, I'm not really prepared for this but I don't think I can wait." I drop down onto one knee. "Will you marry me?"_

_She seems shocked but answers immediately. "Yes."_

_I grin and kiss her, careful not to wake the sleeping baby. I look down at the baby's face. "So, what's her name?"_

_"They said her grandmother dropped her off just after she was born and didn't want to give her a name, so the orphanage named her. It's a beautiful name, too. She was named after a mythical goddess that protected cattle. It's . . ."_

Bubona. Fern's baby is _my_ baby. The world spins and Rodney glares at me. "What's the matter?"

"Bubona," I gasp. He looks at me like I'm crazy. "Bubona is your granddaughter's name."

His eyes widen in shock and then his face relaxes. "What were we talking about again?"

I groan and the Capitol woman finally comes in to take Rodney away.

Bubona is Fern's daughter. The thought echoes in my head and I hope I'm wrong. How am I supposed to tell Nova this? How am I supposed to tell Bubona this when the time comes?

"Damn it," I mutter. "Why does shit like this always happen to me?"

"You said a bad word!" a small voice exclaims and I look up to see Fern's little brother.

"Sorry," I mutter at the black-haired boy. "Didn't know you were standing there."

"It's okay." He replies and sticks out his hand with a small smile. "I'm Lee." I shake his hand, somewhat shocked by the nine-year old's confidence. "So what were you talking about?"

"What do you mean?" I ask uneasily.

"You asked why do things happen to you," Lee said, giving me a 'duh' expression. "I was just wondering why you think that."

"I don't like being here," I lie.

"I don't either," he mutters. His 'either' sounds like 'ever'. If the circumstances were different I would laugh, but I can't even make myself smile. Lee smiles at me, though. I think the boy could smile through anything.

He is Bubona's uncle. Bubona can't stop smiling either. Can babies inherit personalities from family members they've never even met? I always thought Bubona got her love of smiling from Nova, but now I'm not so sure.

"Are you okay, mister?" Lee asks.

"No." I say. "I'm not."


	35. No More Tears

**The Mentors**

**_Chapter Thirty-Five_**

**_Day Five; Part One_**

_Clubb Paige (D2)_

My conversation with Hazel has been annoying me all morning. _I_ don't even know what I meant when I said that wonderful little comment about how it was supposed to be true that I didn't try for anyone. _Do_ I try for people?

I snort indecisively. "I don't try for anyone."

So what did I mean?

Could I possibly have meant that I try for _her_? Is that even fucking possible for me? Damn it. I think wistfully of being able to talk to someone, anyone, about this. But everyone hates me.

...Not that I care, right?

"Fuck." I drag the word out. An escort comes in with some shit about Anneliese and Zeke's sponsor following decreasing dramatically. I scream at her to get out and thus ends that train of thought.

I try to figure out what's going on with the tributes. Again they are showing the Eleven tributes, I tune out for a minute or two. I don't want to hear the disgustingly sweet things they will probably say to each other.

People in love should be euthanized. Caring for another person too deeply will only lead to depression and heartbreak. Love always ends badly. Either one of the people break it off, or one of the people dies. The Eleven tributes are going to learn this soon. At least one of them will die. I'm still banking on the both of them dying.

It switches to the Nine boy who is munching on berries. I wonder what his name is. Milo, possibly? Then it switches to the remaining members of the Careers, meaning my two tributes.

I immediately tense. There is no reason for them to be showing my two, considering they rarely speak to each other. So either they have found a tribute or they are breaking their alliance.

"So . . ." Anneliese says, sounding more innocent that I know her to be.

"Yes?" Zeke responds curtly.

"Do you really want to keep this going?" she asks hesitantly. What is this girl trying to pull? There's no way she can fool him with a "I'm so innocent and weak" act. He's seen her at her most ruthless before. He knows she won't hesitate to slit his throat.

"Not really," he answers without emotion. Ballsy move there. She could possibly get offended and kill him out of spite. I don't put it past her.

"Oh," she sounds surprised. Really, Anneliese, _really_? "Well you should leave then."

"I want the Cornucopia," he says coldly.

"We sometimes don't get what we want, princess," she says mockingly. This is first time she's actually acted like herself.

He grits his teeth. "Fine. I don't care."

He begins to walk away.

"Zeke," she calls and he turns around looking murderous.

"Good luck," she says softly. Then her face hardens. "You're going to need it." He grimaces and stalks away. With a snarl on her face, she turns back around.

I breathe a sigh of relief.

I decide to take a nap, and sleep for I don't know how long. When I wake up it's around 9 AM. Its shows that Olive girl who throws an axe into a lone deer's side. I frown. I've never thought of the girl as a threat before, but . . . maybe she is.

It shows the Eleven tributes again, who are walking through the snowy valley, talking about some person from their District. From what I gather, he worked for her father at some point.

Now, I'm not trying to be rude, but why the hell does this matter?

I roll my eyes, when it switches to Zeke, who is in the valley, too.

Oh, Lord. It's a valley, you can see someone from a mile away. Zeke is outnumbered, yes, but he's trained better than that Eleven bitch. He has a spear, a knife, and a sword. If he has a chance, he needs to take out one of them from afar.

So if I was in his situation, I'd throw the spear and kill the girl before she even realizes he's there. And the boy from Eleven only has a knife. Easy kill.

Zeke notices, thankfully, and goes still. He reaches for the spear. Now, Zeke, all you have to do, is go for the girl. Go for the girl. He runs up a few feet and throws the spear. He aimed for the girl! Go Zeke!

It's a little off . . . probably only going to hit the girl in the arm. But since her greatest strength is archery, this isn't necessarily a bad thing. She won't be able to do anything and both will be easily killed.

Before the spear can hit it's mark, _of fucking course_, the boy notices. And like a dumb ass he steps in front of the girl. And of course it hits his arm instead of hers. I put my face in my hands.

Damn it.

The girl looks up in surprise, looking at her district partner like he's an idiot before realizing what just happened. The "oh shit, someone just tried to kill me" look comes onto her face and she springs into action.

Zeke is looking a little put off, but not scared. He doesn't think he's going to die.

I don't know what I think about the situation. I kind of wonder how terrified Aurora must be. I laugh at the thought. And then I remember that it's also my tribute that's in danger. I look up and, sure enough, Zeke has an arrow in his leg. Shit.

Zeke has just a tinge of fear in his eyes now. The girl looks livid and the boy is on the ground nursing his arm. The girl falters before nocking another arrow and shooting it straight into Zeke's chest.

Damn it, damn it, damn it, _damn it_. Zeke falls to the ground and his cannon soon fires.

I close my eyes. Another tribute down and- unfortunately- it's mine. I think about his family and how now I have to help Aurelia.

Again, _damn it_.

* * *

_Aurora Fairchild (D11)_

I breathe out when Fluffy orders me to. "Gosh, Aurora. They're fine!"

"But Zale-."

"Will be fine," Fluffy interrupts. "See, Laurel's already tending to him!"

"I know, I know." I frown. "That was _really_ scary."

"It was," Fluffy agrees. "_But_ they just got through a confrontation with a _District Two_! People have been doubting they could go all the way, because they'd never faced anyone that tough. Now all they have to do is get through Anneliese and Olive and they'll be fine!"

"Then one of them has to die," I remind her.

Her expression dims. "True . . . but-."

"But nothing. They're not going to be okay."

It truly frightened me that Zale stepped in front of Laurel that easily, without a thought for his own life. I could tell that it wasn't going to kill anyone, but _still_.

"Are you okay?" Laurel repeats as she tears off a strip of her shirt and quickly ties it around his arm. "_Damn it._ It's not going to keep it from bleeding. We need a lot of gauze."

"I'm fine, Laurel. We need to move now. Anneliese could be nearby."

"You have to let me help you!" she says, forcing him to stay still. "What the hell was going through your mind anyways, stepping in front of me like that? You could have gotten yourself _killed_!"

He shrugs and then winces. "You're more important than I am."

"Don't _say_ things like that. Have you thought about your family and what it would do to them? Have you thought about what it would do to _me_?" She seems to be on the verge of a breakdown.

"Shhh," he says in a soothing tone. He must be in horrible pain, but he's still okay with comforting her. She doesn't deserve him. "I'm going to be fine. Aurora will send us some gauze. We'll be fine."

"Okay," Laurel whispers. I check my gift device and realize we _do_ have enough money for gauze, which is a miracle considering how late it is in the games. I quickly send them gauze. I mean, this far in, what else can happen that I'll need it for?

I keep up a trivial conversation with Fluffy for almost an hour, and then glance back up at the TV, hoping for it to be showing my tributes. It is, of course. They _are_ the favorites.

Walking through some trees, they are silent. Laurel suddenly decides to speak and looks depressed.

"If only we would have met before all this happened," Laurel whispers. "How did I not meet you?"

"You were with all the other rich people," Zale points out. "If I would have talked to you, you would've been a bitch and told me to leave."

"I would not," Laurel says indignantly and at his doubtful expression she rolls her eyes. "Okay, maybe I would have . . . but I'm sure someone as stubborn as you would keep trying."

"Probably," Zale agrees with a grin. "When I saw you when we were both in school, I always thought you were beautiful and out of my league though."

Laurel blushes. "Whatever. I noticed you . . . once or twice." Zale nudges her with a grin. "Okay, maybe more than twice. I thought you were cute, of course."

Zale laughs quietly. "Everyone thought I was cute."

"And nice. Funny. Hardworking. A lot of girls wanted to marry you. At least the ones that I talked to."

"Who did you talk to?" he asks with a small smile.

"Just some girls that knew you," Laurel replies vaguely, pushing her hair out of her face.

"So you asked about me!" Zale teases.

"No," Laurel says, rolling her eyes. "I asked what your name was and they began telling me about you. I didn't encourage it."

"Why not?" Zale asks.

Laurel shakes her head. "It made me think . . . think you were someone I could be friends with."

"Well, you were right, weren't you? We're friends."

Laurel rolls her eyes. "We're more than friends."

Zale smiles and then bites his lip.

Laurel smiles. "What?"

"I really don't know if I should do this or not," Zale says, looking down.

Laurel seems to deflate. "You want to . . . break the alliance?" She looks down and I believe she's about to cry.

"No," Zale says, he lifts her chin up, so he can look at her face. "I would never leave you." He hesitates and then leans down and kisses her.

She pulls away after a few moments. "We only have a few more days at the most . . . and then one of us-." She stops and shakes her head, tears flying everywhere.

"One of us dies," he says calmly. "Let's make the most of it then, okay? No more tears."

* * *

_Lilac Parrish (D6)_

"They're so . . ." Blaise can't finish his sentence.

"In love?" I supply and he nods quickly. "Well, Blaise, I'm sure you act like that with Nova. Don't you?"

"Yeah, but-."

"They're too young for that kind of thing? Blaise, let me remind you that Zale is the same age as you."

Blaise rolls his eyes. "It's not that. They're just too . . ."

"Perfect?"

"That's it. Perfection in a nutshell."

"Did you really just say 'nutshell?'" I ask with a raised brow. "You are so weird."

"I am not weird!" he protests and at my dubious expression he roll his eyes. "Okay, maybe a little."

"Weirdness," I mock. "In a nutshell."

He pushes me lightly. "Lilac, you're being so mean today."

"I'm just . . . I don't know." I shrug.

"Well maybe you should get your mind off of everything," he suggests. "You could go bowling, go talk to Quinn possibly, tell me your secret-."

"You are so nosy."

"Well, you told me you would," he points out.

I roll my eyes. "Sometimes I just say things I don't mean . . . it's not that unusual for me."

Blaise rolls his eyes in return. "I'm still shocked."

"About what?"

"I just got a tribute to the final six," Blaise explain. "I can't believe it."

I pat him on the back. "You're a good mentor."

"I wonder how Aurora feels. She's gotten two to the final six _and_ they just killed one of the District Twos." Blaise smiles. "I'd be freaking out."

I laugh. "Me too."

Blaise tells me he'll be going to the kitchen and I sit on my bed. I envy him. He got a tribute to final six in his first year, what have I done?

Maybe I shouldn't be worrying about this. Sure, mentoring helps, but if you have a weak tribute awesome mentoring isn't going to do much, however much you want it to.

Fern was just better than Maeve, I shouldn't be unhappy about that. If it makes Blaise happy, I should be happy. Right? Whatever. I just want to stop thinking about it.

I wonder what Valor is doing. I bet he's visited my family- all eight of them.

Divorces aren't common in the districts, but my parents couldn't go five minutes without insulting each other so it was better that they did. I wonder if it was different before I was born, if they still loved each other. I sometimes wonder if I was the one that ended the marriage, I was only two when they split up.

Both of my parents married again, to people they're actually in love with. I didn't think it possible for my dad to love anyone, but he loves his wife and their two children. A lot more than he loves me. My mom married Eaton, a man who is, for all intent and purpose, my father. They have two children also, and when I was younger I was always afraid that mom loved them more than me.

I always thought they hated me, because of their hatred for one another. They just couldn't accept me because I was their worst enemy's daughter. Even if I was theirs too.

When I was at Dad's house, it seemed like he always found a way to avoid me. The only reason Heaven, his new wife, ever spoke to me was to order me to do chores or take care of the other two children so they could go have fun. It was like I was a babysitter instead of his kid.

_And_ I didn't even get paid.

April, my dad's other daughter, took after them. She hates me and I have no idea why.

I sometimes just want to yell at her, to say she should be grateful I was there. I took care of her nine times out ten. Then there's Brent, my dad's son. He is the best person in that family- no doubt. He loves me, something I'm happy to be sure of.

Then there is mom's new family. Eaton is great. Kalina is the beauty of the family and my mother's pride and joy. I love her, but she's as prissy as they come. And Marigold. Marigold might have been the funniest child ever. She still is, though it now has more of a sarcastic feel to it.

I remember how my family used to play a game where you would have to say everyone you were thankful for at the dinner table. Marigold always had the longest list _ever_, but I guess it was because she was four. She would never say my name. She would say at least twenty people, saying my best friend's name three times, but never mine once. And once I asked her why I wasn't included, she would say she forgot and start all over again. Only to not say my name again.

I loved her though.

I guess I might have family issues. I'm not really sure.

Back then, I couldn't go five minutes without a boy's attention. I had one that I dated for almost a year, but it never would have worked out between him and my old self. I broke up with him almost every day, for minor things, like he didn't say that he loved me or he didn't remember to hold my hand or he didn't carry my books. He would always want me back though, always fight to get me back. He always did, too.

He was the only one that understood me, the only person I've ever told all my problems too. I was horrible to him and he still wanted to be with me forever.

I guess you can figure out who it is. We ended breaking up for a long time, until I got my act together and finally let him in again.

Nine years ago.

I was so immature back then . . . and a thought hits me.

Maybe I still am.


	36. Clubbers

**The Mentors**

**_Chapter Thirty-Six_**

**_Day Five; Part Two_**

_Dara Valentine (D4)_

I roll my eyes at the dark-haired man shoving ham into his mouth. "Hungry Damon?"

He looks back and, seeing it's me, scowls. "I'm not in the mood."

I smirk at him, knowing what he means but disregarding it. "For eating? Your piggish manners make me doubt that."

He glares. "I'm not in the mood for _you_, Dara. I can't deal with your less than wonderful personality right now."

"_You don't like me?_ I thought we were besties."

Damon grimaces. "Just leave me alone."

"You should know by now that I don't take orders," I say with a small smile. "So? I heard that you're having marital problems."

He turns around quickly, looking terrified. "_What_?"

"Yeah . . . according to the Capitol News you're cheating with a _very_ beautiful woman."

Damon hides his face in his hands, falling silent. He finally looks up. "Can you give me a general idea of who they _think_ it is?"

I grin. "I really shouldn't."

"Dara."

"But you seem so upset . . ."

"If you don't fucking tell me-."

"Alright, alright. According to the magazine, it's a young Capitol citizen named Blossom. They say you seem to have _quite_ the flirtation going on." I cock an eyebrow.

He sighs in relief. "You could have told me that to begin with!"

"Eh. It's not my style." I give him a genuinely worried look. "You seemed really terrified right then. A man who _isn't_ cheating wouldn't be that scared. So who is she?" Damon _seemed _like such a nice guy. Who the fuck would he be sleeping with anyway?

He gives me a wary expression. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"I won't tell anyone." I give him a small smile. "I don't tell other people's secrets, just in case they find out one of _mine_."

"You have secrets?" he asks, unconvinced.

"Everyone has secrets, Damon." I frown. "Now who is it?"

He hesitates and then finally says, "I didn't cheat on Hope. _Ever_."

I give him a confused look. "Then why were you so scared?"

"I . . . I thought about it." He looks at the ground, clearly embarrassed. "With Quinn."

I nod. "And what did Quinn say about this?"

"She told me to shut up and leave her alone, pretty much." He looks back up at me. "I really hope she'll still speak to me."

"Eight won't ice you out for long." I smile. "You and Hope _are_ supposed to get married, right?"

He nods. "Next year."

I'm already planning on how to let Quinn know that I know. I almost let out a laugh at the thought.

"Believe it or not, you _are_ a teenage boy." I frown. "It's hard to make such a huge commitment when you're young."

"I've been thinking about waiting a little longer to get married. I don't want to marry her when I'm unsure. I want to marry her when I can't think about being with anyone else. I just don't know if that time will come or not. I don't want to disappoint her."

"You love her," I assure him. "You're too young to be sure, though. You should try waiting two or three years. You'll know for sure then."

I begin to walk away and he stops me. "Thank you."

"No problem." I grab a granola bar before walking away without another word.

I eat it slowly as I walk to my room. I don't really know about Hope and Damon's relationship, never having talked to the girl, but I can tell Damon loves her by the way he speaks about her.

I wonder if people think Kai is really in love with me? I wouldn't put it past them to think he isn't. I _am_ a raging bitch. I don't think myself that bad, exactly, but people have told me that I am. I wonder what _their_ problem is.

I run smack into my door. "Fuck."

"Oh my gosh! Are you okay?" A female voice asks, sounding like she's trying not to laugh. I look and see Quinn hoping to help me up.

How cliche.

I wave her away and climb up myself.

"I'm fine," I growl, wiping my ass off. I find myself . . . angry at her.

She could be breaking up Hope and Damon. It's sad that I'm mad and I don't even give a damn.

"You seem . . . mad?" Quinn looks confused.

"Not at all," I spit sarcastically.

Quinn gives me an annoyed look. "Just tell me what's wrong so I can fix it."

I glare at her. "You're going to ruin Damon's relationship with Hope."

Her face whitens. "You _know_? How the hell do you _know_?"

"Damon told me." I give her a smirk. "It's funny because I never would have taken you for a home-wrecker, Quinn."

"Shut the hell up, Dara." She gives me a withering look. "I haven't done _anything_ wrong and it's _not_ my fault. _I_ turned _him_ away. So fuck off."

She begins to walk away before I call her name. She turns with an expectant look. If she's expecting an apology, she's an idiot. "Remember to wear protection! I wouldn't want you to have his love child."

She flips me off before striding away. I smile at how easily I pissed off the always calm Quinn.

I get to check something off my clipboard!

Ah, life. How I love it so.

* * *

_Blaise Calder (D10)_

"So, I know you have a large family, but can you tell me all of their names?" Lilac asks. "And, you know, tell me about them a little."

I sigh. "This might be . . . long. And definitely confusing."

"I need something to puzzle over," she responds with a laugh. We both know she has enough confusing problems, but she likes to act like she doesn't. Well, I don't know exactly what they are, but whatever.

"Well there's Nova, we're getting married when we have the time." I roll my eyes. "And the space."

"So everyone lives with you?" Lilac asks.

"Pretty much." I smile. "There's my grandma, Mina. My granddad died a few years back and she hasn't been the same for a while. They lived on a dairy farm, but she had to give it up for Palmer, my cousin. I'll get to that later. My parents, Lydia and Silas, died when I was younger, they were in their early thirties. I went and lived with my grandparents then."

"I'm sorry."

"It's fine. I can barely remember them anymore." I look at the ground. "I have a younger brother and sister, their names are Merril and Delphia. Well, my aunt died in birth and my uncle drank himself to death. I have nine cousins. Palmer is the oldest- he's twenty one- he's married and expecting triplets, that's why he needs the dairy farm. I'm the one who runs it though. The rest live with me."

Lilac stared at me in shock. "Eleven children and an old lady? How do you do it all?"

I smile. "I'm good at multitasking. I did have another cousin, but he died in the Games before I went in. His name was Pol. Well the ones that live with me are Piper, Pepper, Pansy, Palla, Peter, Parsnip, Paisly, and Pavi. Paisly and Pavi are twins. I volunteered for Pepper. Nova and I have foster children, too."

"Foster children?" Lilac asks quickly. Surprise and another emotion dance across her face, but before I can identify it, it's gone.

"The orphanage doesn't have any room for them and we give them a place to stay until we can find permanent homes for them."

"Really?" Lilac tries to sound nonchalant. "That's really nice of you."

"We have three at the moment. Shepherd, Rutherford, and Bubona. They're very nice. Shepherd is twelve, it was his first reaping this year, but Bubona is only three. We've had Bubona since she was six months old."

"That's so sad," Lilac replies, looking really shocked. "So no one wants them?"

"Not that we know of." I shrugged. "Nova's been trying to find some people in the other districts to send them to."

"You can do that?" Lilac exclaims.

I give her a weird look. "I just use some of my money to buy a train ticket and then the Justice Building files a report saying that they've been relocated to whatever District they've been sent to."

"Do you sometimes not tell the Justice Building?" Lilac asks.

"As much as I would like to not, I'd get in too much trouble for that." I roll my eyes. "But it isn't all that complicated, you know, if I can do it."

Lilac tries to laugh. "Could someone get . . . I don't know . . . all three of them?"

"I guess if they wanted that kind of responsibility."

"Oh."

I give her a confused look. "Why do you ask?"

"Just curious," Lilac says. "I've never heard about anything like this before. It's amazing what you do for your community, Blaise."

I give her an uncomfortable look. "I don't see it as a helping hand to the community. I love them, I really do, but it's more for Nova than anything else. She wants a baby, but we can't get another person in the house that will be there permanently."

"Then what about the foster kids? You have room for three of them."

"We have one room and they all share it with Paisly and Pavi. It's not practical, for us to put another in there. Palla and Parsnip sleep with my grandmother. Piper, Pepper, and Peter share a room. Then there's a room for Pansy, Delphia, and Merril. We're hoping to get the boys and the girls in a few rooms together soon. But we just can't handle a baby, right now. Maybe when Piper and Pepper move out, we can think about it."

"Oh." Lilac grimaced. "You would have a lot more room when the three other children get a family."

"It's only three years until Piper and Pepper move out and hopefully we will have found a home for them first. Nova will be so happy for all of them. I just hope that we can manage until then. I might have to put my foot down about other children in the home for the meantime."

"I agree with you. How big is the dairy farm?"

"About three rooms."

"Well, one for the triplets and then you could ask him to let Piper and Pepper live there, I mean you could pay for living expenses. How could he say no to that?" Lilac asks, looking put off.

"I've asked." I roll my eyes. "Repeatedly."

"That just pisses me off," Lilac informs me. "Those are _his_ brothers and sisters."

"I know," I say. "But they're _my_ cousins, too."

"Hmm. Well, Blaise, I have to go." I give her a surprised look. "It's just for an hour or two. I need some time . . . alone."

"Well . . . okay. If that's what you need."

She leaves quickly, leaving me speechless. I can't help but wonder if it's my fault, she seemed fine before.

What the hell did I say?

* * *

_Hazel Birchbark (D7)_

I'm fucking bored . . .

Hours later, I'm still bored.

I check the little refrigerator, enticed by the idea of peanuts.

I grin at the big bottles of what I'm guessing is alcohol. Jackpot!

I've never drank before in my life, I don't like the way people say it makes you lose all control. I like being in control. But right now, what I need is some downtime.

Being in control is not all it's cracked up to be.

I drink, about, I don't know . . . four bottles? I feel really tipsy . . . I prove that I'm drunk by falling over. I get off the floor, giggling wildly.

A knock comes at the door. I giggle again before opening it. My mouth falls open in shock. I imagine what my face must look like at the moment. And, of course, I laugh.

"Clubbers?" I ask. "Hello, beautiful!"

He gives me a freaked out look. "Um, hello?"

"You must be here to steal my liquor," I whisper conspiratorially. "But you know what? I don't like people stealing my liquor. But I do share!"

Clubb looks mildly surprised. "I'm guessing you're drunk?"

"_You lie!" _I yell and then cackle in delight.

He grins. "But, being serious, I have nothing to do."

"So you want to do _me_?" I ask, with a raised eyebrow. "Too bad!"

He chuckles. "Yeah, that's _exactly_ what I meant."

"You can't fool me, Clubbers!" I exclaim. "I can read minds."

"I'm sure you can," he responds dryly. I'm starting to slur words and he gives me a surprised look. "How much have you drank?"

"I don't know, four bottles. Maybe?" I reply with a lot of giggling. He roll his eyes and plucks the fifth bottle I just began to drink out of my hands. "Hey, Clubbers, _so_ not cool."

"You need to stop." He gives me an inquiring look. "Have you ever even drank before?"

"In your dreams, I have."

He rolls his eyes again. "I'm guessing that's a no."

I finally realize that he's not going to give it back. "NOOOOOOOOO!" I wail. "Give it baaaaaaaaack!"

"Really, Hazel, _really_?"

"But, Clubbers, I need one to feel complete!"

He laughs loudly. "You shouldn't be drunk. What about Olive?"

"It's not like I can do anything for her anyway," I inform him with a small laugh. "It's not like I can talk to her!"

"Well, I'll be right back," Clubb tells me. He leaves, taking the liquor with him, of course. I sulk on the bed and entertain myself by watching the TV. Wait, this is the Hunger Games, isn't it? I watch as my tribute kills some kind of animal. I giggle at her face when she's skinning the squirrel. Funny!

Olive looks around quickly, and I have no idea why. Before Olive can run a spear enters her chest. She falls over, screaming in pain and Anneliese comes charging through the trees. She gives Olive a smug look, laughing at my dying tribute. "Thought you were going to win? _Please_."

I stare at the TV in shock, wondering what the hell is going on. My intoxicated mind can't process what's going on per say, but it does understand it's not a good thing. I burst into tears, and Olive's cannon sounds. The TV switches to the next thing.

Clubb opens the door, smiling, but it quickly fades when he sees my tears. "What..?"

"_Olive_," I sob, the slurring worse, unfortunately. "Anneliese _killed_ her."

"I- I'm sorry," he mutters, looking like he wants to run away. I cry for minutes, and he stands there. He finally sighs and comes to sit beside me. "I'm really sorry."

I find myself becoming tired. I stop crying, my puffy eyes fluttering. He gives me a small smile. "Tired?"

"A little," I admit. He gets up, letting me climb under the covers. My eyes flutter close. "Clubbers? I'll see you . . . tomorrow . . ."

"I hope so."

I feel a soft kiss, and then seconds later, the door closes quietly.


	37. Anger

**The Mentor**

**_Chapter Thirty-Seven_**

**_Day Five; Part Three_**

_Damon Marx (D9)_

I roll my eyes at Blossom. "I don't care."

I really _do_ care about what they're saying though. I just don't care about them saying it's _Blossom_. But even them saying it's her, is one step closer to them saying it's Quinn.

"I just didn't want you to think that I encouraged it," she tells me with a smile. "I don't think Hope will see it, though."

I'm _really_ tired of acting like I can stand her. "Thanks for coming to tell me, but I want you to leave now."

Her expression is hurt, but I wave her out.

I lean back in a chair that I got some Capitolite that was freaking out over me to pull in here. I might have betrayed Hope, ruined my friendship with Quinn, and told the worst person I could possibly tell, but right now, in this chair, I am happy.

And then the moment is over.

Quinn charges into the room, looking murderous. "What the fuck were you thinking?"

I stand up. "What are you talking about?"

Seeing her, right in front of me, golden-brown eyes like daggers brings the attraction right back.

Shit.

"You fucking told Dara!" she screams. This is the angriest I've ever seen Quinn. She looks like she wants to strangle someone. "_How could you_?"

My mouth opens and closes, the room is too silent. "I . . . I'm sorry?"

"You _hate_ Dara!" she exclaims. "Why would you _tell_ her that? Why would you _do_ that to me?"

"I didn't want to tell her!" I explode, anger hitting me like a punch. "There was a rumor going around that I was cheating on Hope and she clued me in on it. She figured it out _herself_, Quinn. Stop acting like you're a victim."

"I _am_ a victim!" she yells. "You're the one that was going to cheat on you're _fiancee_! I did nothing, but you know who they're going to blame if this gets out? _Me_!"

Her words hit me like a punch, and I breathe slowly, though I see red. She just told me the cruel truth and I'm _mad_ at her for it. I think I have problems. "_Get. The. Fuck. Out. Of. My. Room._"

She seems shocked at my hostility. "_What_?"

"You heard me," I hiss. "_Go_."

"But . . ."

"You weren't done chewing me out?" I supply. "Well, I'm sorry to tell you this but I don't give a shit what you have to say anymore. I don't want to talk to you, I don't even want to look at you. Leave."

She gives me a confused look, and I scowl. She finally gets that I'm being serious about leaving and slowly walks out the door. I sigh in relief and I sit back down.

I start to see that all I just said to Quinn was out of unjustified anger. I run a hand through my hair. What did I just do?

Staring at the ceiling, I sigh in frustration. Should I go and apologize..? I stand up but then slowly sit back down. She'll be furious with me . . . but maybe that's okay. It's probably better this way, if she doesn't speak to me.

I'm so mad at myself but also relieved that I won't see Quinn again. Just a few more days and then I won't see her for a year or two at the least. Next year Delta will mentor, hopefully.

I hate the way she makes me feel. I hate everything about her, but I also love everything about her.

Shit.

I hate this. I hate how she's turned my fucking life upside down. I hate that I can't ever be the same.

I grimace, and glare at the ground for a few seconds. I close my eyes, wishing I could just stop agonizing over every decision I've made since I stepped up to the stage when I was only fifteen.

I decide I'll get through this, I'll try to go on exactly as before, even if there's a possibility it won't work.

I look back up, hoping all of this was just a dream, but of course wishful thinking is no help. I sigh before glancing at the TV screen.

I then groan. I've been neglecting my mentoring duties. I check my mentoring device. The polls are saying Anneliese will win, but everyone's favorites are the Elevens.

What. A. Shocker.

"I hate them," I grumble. It's not that I hate them, per say, but I hate what they represent. The represent the Capitol winning, yet again, and I can't stand it.

I check Miles' funds and he, of course, doesn't even have enough to buy the smallest canteen of water. Hell, he couldn't even afford an empty canteen.

I look back up, frowning at the TV. I see the bright red hair of Fern Carver, the District Ten girl. She looks frustrated with her lack of weapons. I would be too, this late in the Games. I long to see Miles instead.

I have to fight to keep my eyes open. It seems like I haven't slept in days. Which now that I think of it . . . I probably haven't slept but five hours in the last three days. If I don't sleep soon, I'll be paying a visit to that lovely little "hospital" they set up for us.

I hear a sputter on the TV and quickly look up, wondering what's happening for there to be any other noise than bugs buzzing. It's Fern.

Strangling Miles. I gasp. Fern is smiling, happy to be killing. Happy to be taking away a life.

My breathing is ragged, as Miles' face turns a deep purple. He is struggling hard, but Fern is much stronger. He seems . . . resigned to his fate, but also looks defiant. With his remaining energy, he spits on her. She snarls and knees him in the stomach. He blows out most of his dwindling supply of air in shock.

Soon- too soon in my opinion- his cannon fires and Fern climbs off his body with a self-satisfied smirk. She wipes the spit off her face and gathers all her supplies. I stare at the screen in disbelief.

Miles is really dead.

I fear that it's all my fault.

* * *

_Ronny Pied (D5)_

I wish Kallen was here . . . but yet I'm happy he's not.

I'm terrified about telling him. I have an irrational fear that he will realize that he's much too good for me and leave. But the more sensible part of me knows he will only be upset.

Ivo shoots me a concerned look. I notice that I'm breathing much too heavily. I calm myself down and then arch an eyebrow. "What?"

He shrugs, smiling blandly. I try to smile back, but fail miserably. "I'm a mess, aren't I?"

He shrugs again and I chuckle at his nonchalance. "You act so bored."

He rolls his eyes. I bet if he could speak, he would say "I am" or some other sarcastic comment. I don't know for sure, but I have a feeling he's funny. Most victors have some sort of cynical humor.

"You know, I've never had a friend that could only answer yes or no questions." He rolls his eyes, smiling slightly. I wonder if he can laugh . . . I also wonder why he can't speak . . . I decide to ask.

"Ivo?" I ask. He looks up with an expectant expression. "Why can't you talk?"

He stares at me for a long time before pulling out a piece of paper and pencil he always keeps handy when I'm around. He hesitates before writing it all down.

He then hands me the paper. I read it slowly, a horrible grimace on my face. He saw his father murdered . . . and then the murderer . . . oh, gosh. The murderer tried to strangle him, but someone showed up and he ran away. But when the murderer tried to kill him, he damaged his vocal cords. It's not that he won't speak. It's that he _can't_.

"Oh my . . ." I can't even finish my sentence. "I . . . I'm so sorry."

He just shrugs, pretty much saying "I've heard it all before."

"But . . . it's just so _horrible_."

He sighs and shakes his head, with a rueful smile.

"Of course you were right to have told me!" I exclaim. "Don't you dare think anything differently."

He sighs again and rolls his eyes, eyes twinkling with mischief.

"You're making fun of me, aren't you?" I ask with an indignant expression. "That's not nice."

He chuckles. I again wonder if that is all the laugh he can manage. He raises his eyebrows at my quizzical expression.

"It's nothing." He gives me a doubtful look. "Really, nothing at all."

He gives me a frustrated expression and I decide to switch to a new subject. Quickly.

"You know, I hate people," I tell him. "They just annoy me. I like you, but I still think it's because you can't speak."

He shakes his head slowly, with a huge grin. I smile back.

"You shouldn't take that offensively." I roll my eyes. "At least I like you."

He chuckles again, smiling at me once more.

"So, how do you get to know people?" I ask. "Because, personally, I ask questions."

He rolls his eyes, grabs his sheet of paper and begins to write again. I watch as his pencil dances across the paper. He's actually got really good handwriting, something I envy. I used to hate school because my mean ass of a teacher always commented on my messy style. She counted off on tests, because "I can't read this." She made me re-write almost all of my assignments. Because she was a bitch.

An old bitch, at that.

People like her make me think everyone sucks.

I only know few people I truly like. Kallen and Ivo, two of the best people I know. My brother, Jude, even if he's a bit selfish. And my parents, who hated me at one point in my life.

He gives me his sheet of paper and I read over it quickly. He says he watches people's facial expressions mostly. He can tell if they are lying and some aspects of their personality. He informs me that I'm very perceptive because I can tell what he would say, even if he can't say it.

Perceptive? I like the sound of that.

* * *

_Quinn McKinney (D8)_

I'm attracted to him sure, I mean, we all knew that. But I hate him. So fucking much.

I've never been this mad, _ever. _

I'm always the happy one, the mellow McKinney, but whenever I'm angry- even at the smallest of things- I keep it all bottled up. Until it gets too much for me and it all spills out for a few days.

And then I'm like this. A big bitch who snaps at everything that is said. I can't wait for all this shit to be over and to be back in District Eight. I need to get away from all this freaking drama.

I see Miles' death and sigh, but I get a small twinge of pleasure, knowing it will hurt Damon.

I shudder at what I'm thinking. Disgust and guilt wash over me. I don't think I'd be able to look at myself in the mirror right now after that _horrible_ thought.

I really can't help but feel sad, too. He was so _rude_. How could he be that rude to _me_? I'm one of his best friends. I'm his . . . what exactly am I? From his anger, I'm probably none of those things now.

A deep pain in my chest throbs at the thought. I scowl at the pain, wishing it would go away. Wishing my feelings would go away, like apparently his have.

I lay on my bed, wishing all the pain would go away. But it doesn't. It only intensifies and I find myself crying into my pillow. A small knock comes at the door. I turn quickly, excitement and dread warring through me. Could it be..?

It isn't.

Garl stands in the doorway, a huge grin on his face. When he sees my tear-stained face, it turns to a grimace. He comes and sits by me. "Everything okay?"

I know I should lie, but I can't help myself. Garl is so understanding. He would understand, wouldn't he? "No."

"What is it then?"

"I hate them," I mutter.

"I know you do, sweetie."

I already know who he thinks I'm speaking of. The Capitol, of course. That doesn't stop me from plowing on though. "I didn't do anything. Why do I deserve this?"

He pats me on the back softly. "You don't deserve anything, no one does."

Speaking of the tributes, I presume.

"I know that," I concede. "But I can't hold it against them! I shouldn't have done anything to begin with. It's all my fault."

Confusion is all I can see on his face now. I want to hit myself. The stupid part of my brain wants to let it all out, the smarter part is telling the stupid one to shut the fuck up.

"Um. I sense that this isn't about the Capitol."

"No." I look down. "No, it's not."

"Then who is it about?" he questions.

"Dara?" I supply. That's part of the truth at least.

Garl sighs. "Of course. You really shouldn't take anything she says serious."

"I know."

His confusion has dimmed, but is not all the way gone. "You said 'they'. Who's the other person that's been giving you a hard time?"

Shit.

Fuck.

_Shit_.

"Um . . ."

"It's okay. I won't tell a soul, Quinn."

I look down, wondering if I should tell him, or lie. Should I say she's the only one, or just admit to it being Damon. Keep all this anger and sadness I have inside, or for _once_ let it out to someone who actually cares.

I make my decision. "It's Damon."

"Damon?" he asks, a grimace in place. "I thought you two were friends . . ."

I give him a small frown. "Yes."

He still looks confused. "So what do you two have to fight about?"

I look at him, and in my expression he sees all the answer he needs.

"Oh, Quinn," he whispers. "You didn't..?"

I shake my head wildly. "No! He . . . wanted to. I told him no."

"Is that why you're fighting?" he exclaims, outraged. "That asshole!"

"No, no, _no_!" Why am I telling him this? I must be an idiot. "He told _Dara_ and she said something about it to me and I confronted him and he yelled at me. It all just . . . a really big mess."

"Why would he yell at you? You've done nothing wrong!" he hisses. "And Dara? He's an idiot."

"Don't say that," I whisper.

He shouldn't be talking about Damon like this.

He gives me a startled look. Then, slowly, realization dawns on his features. "You love him?"

Deny.

Deny it, Quinn.

"Maybe."

"But you said . . . no?"

"He loves Hope." I shake my head. "Not me. So I shouldn't mess that up for him."

"You aren't messing it up." He frowns. "He is."

"You really think so?" I ask hopefully. Maybe if Garl thinks so everyone else will. Maybe it's _not_ my fault. "Thank you for thinking that."

He smiles. "There isn't any reason to thank me."

I erupt into a laugh over what I'm about to say. "I just like knowing that someone has my back."


	38. Family

**The Mentors**

**_Chapter Thirty-Eight_**

**_Day Six; Part One_**

_Garland "Garl" Riggs (D12)_

The revelation of Quinn and Damon's relationship has shaken me, for some reason. Maybe it's because I had no idea and I should have guessed. I shrug off the feeling. It doesn't matter anyway. I'm happy Quinn told me, but I don't like knowing.

If someone ever asks, I can't really lie. I don't particularly like lying, and I avoid it in anyway possible.

I used to lie all the time, whenever there was a need for it, but I eventually fell out of the habit. Lying isn't going to help, I had finally realized, someone is always going to figure me out. If I would have told the truth, it would have been easier for me a lot of times in life. The person wouldn't have been as mad if I would have told the truth right then and there.

I'm sad to say most of the time it was my wife- well, if it makes it sound any better, she wasn't my wife then- that I lied to.

A pang of homesickness washes over me. I miss my wife and kids. I miss District Twelve, as hard as that may be to believe. I even miss the smell of coal, which is hard to do, trust me.

I always worry about my family. All of them. I worry about my wife's health, LR's pregnancy, Darius' wife's lack of pregnancy, and Riley . . . Well I'm always worried about Riley.

He's our problem child, and always has been since the moment he was born.

Darius was always hard-working and quiet, he never gave us anything to worry about. Or maybe he was just sneaky, I don't know. LR was always the funny little girl, and she's never changed. Other than she developed sarcasm.

Riley has always been different than the others. He was a colicky baby and a naughty child. Then he turned into a womanizer. It was so hard on Alma, considering he didn't even try to cover it up. If there was one thing we instilled into Riley, it was to always tell the truth. And he did. Good or bad.

We have had many screaming matches, and all have left me feeling like a horrible parent. LR and Darius were always unhappy with everyone's animosity at the dinner table. Riley would be mad at me, I would be mad at him, and Alma couldn't decide who to be mad at.

I push the old days from my mind. It only makes me angry at myself and right now, I don't need that. I'm already mad enough at myself for letting my tributes die, yet again. "Damn it."

"Well," a voice says, sounding slightly humored. I look up to see Quinn. She's the only person who ever comes by to say hello when I'm here. The rest have their own favorites.

I smile. "Good morning."

"I'd say the same, but it doesn't seem like you're having a good one." Quinn grins. "What are you thinking about, Garl?"

I frown. "Family."

"Ah," Quinn says, with a knowing smile. "Family is always the worst."

"It is," I agree quietly.

"I've never actually heard about you're family. What are they like?"

"Well, there's Alma, my wife. She's a real nice lady, never said a bad word against anybody. She loves to tease me about being old, of course. I have three children. My oldest is Darius, he's twenty-five and married to a very nice woman named Anna. He's quiet, but likes to joke around when he's in the right mood. Lily-Rose is my next child. We call her LR. She's twenty-three, and married to the mayor. His name is Case and they're having a baby."

"That's great!" Quinn exclaims. "How far along is she?"

"About five months," I reply. "She's ecstatic."

"Well, what about you're youngest?" Quinn demands.

"Riley. He's twenty-two and . . . a womanizer. He's trying to get the baker's daughter to fall in love with him, currently. I think it's taking a little longer than he thought it would."

"So he's _that_ kind of boy," Quinn teases, poking me in the side. "_Nice_."

I shrug, trying not to comment about my son's love life.

"So what's Lily-Rose thinking about naming the baby?" Quinn asks suddenly. I can tell she's trying to change the subject before I reveal something I shouldn't.

"For a girl I think Acuba," I reply, wrinkling my nose at the name. If it's a girl, then I will be calling her by her middle name. "And Saffron for a boy." Of course, she would pick a common name for one and an unusual one for another.

"Acuba? That's . . . nice."

I shake my head. "Sometimes I wonder about her . . ."

Quinn laughs. "That's not nice, Garl."

"I didn't mean it to be nice," I say, while rolling my eyes. "But being serious, I hate that name so much."

"What is her middle name going to be?" Quinn asks.

"I think it's something like Sue." I roll my eyes. "Not the best one either."

Quinn laughs so hard, I start to believe she's going to pop a blood vessel. "That . . . is so . . . funny."

"Not really . . ." I say, trailing off, as she laughs even harder. "I don't think it's funny that my oldest grandchild will have a shitty name. What am I supposed to do with Acuba? Call her Cuba? _Cubie_? _Sue_?"

"Personally," Quinn remarks after she contains herself. "I am in love with the name Sue."

* * *

_Ivo Wright (D1)_

I hate not being able to speak. It's not the most fun thing that all I have to do is watch the end of the Games. I comfort myself with the fact that the Games will be over soon though. It seems like it'll be done in two days at they very most.

"So, Ivo, who are you thinking?" Ronny asks.

I give her a confused glance, wanting to go to sleep.

"Who do you think will win?" Ronny clarifies.

I think about it and then point at the District Two girl who is on the screen trying to scrounge up some food from the remaining supply.

Ronny nods. "Everyone thinks she'll win. I'm holding out hope for one of the Elevens."

I shake my head. No one who's truly good ever wins.

She sighs. "It's a possibility. It's two to her one. And there's that Fern girl."

I roll my eyes, but pity is the only emotion I'm feeling. "That Fern girl" will most likely be dead by the end of the day. No one can do anything about it. In a different year, she might have had a chance, but not this one.

"I know, I know. She doesn't have a chance." Ronny shakes her head sadly. "It's certainly a bad situation. I wouldn't have her win, even if she could. She's . . . not the nicest person, if you haven't noticed. Well, neither is Laurel, but she's not _as_ bad."

I don't give her the skeptical look I want to. Just because she's not a bitch now doesn't mean she's not going to be one after- _if_- she wins. She'll probably be worse then, considering someone she loved died. She could be worse than Dara.

Cue shudder.

No one could possibly be worse than Dara. I don't know what happened to that woman, but whatever it was she didn't have a good reaction to it. "Ivo? Are you even listening?"

I look up, a smile plastered across my face. She rolls her eyes. "What's wrong with you now?"

I shrug and she glares at me. "You aren't going to tell me, are you?"

I shake my head with a grin. She groans. "You're a sucky Capitol friend."

I would ask what a "Capitol friend" is but I'm not sure I want to know. She sees my confused expression though. "It's, like, a friend who you only see when you're in the Capitol. You are my first. You should feel honored at the moment."

She sees my amused expression. "C'mon! Feel honored!"

I chuckle. I wish I could make a biting comment, but I can't. She smiles. "Well, I have to go. Some meeting with my escort. You know, I still can't remember that person's name. Why I have to meet with this person I don't know, but this isn't going to be fun. It'll be like getting a root canal fun."

I roll my eyes and motion her out. She always gets so into a conversation she forgets she has to do anything else. She gives me a half smile before leaving. The door closing sounds much louder than usual.

I look at the TV in boredom. Who all is left..? The Elevens . . . Anneliese . . . and Fern is all I can remember. I wonder about it for at least ten minutes, when I think of the name.

Miles. Isn't he Damon's tribute? I don't ever see much out of him. He's one of those smart tributes that no one ever thinks about winning.

Wait. No. He died, didn't he?

Yeah, he's dead.

I was not one of those like he was. I was from District One so even if I was young and mute, I still had _some_ chance in the eyes of the Capitol. By the third week in the arena, I had quite the fan following, which I appreciated in the Games but I don't much like now. Fans coming up to you and gushing is annoying as hell. As Ronny put it "root canal fun."

Ronny comes back minutes later, tears running down her face. I give her a surprised look and she sobs into her hands. "The escort . . . she said . . . _they know_."

Shit.

I'm beside her before I can think about it, consoling her. From the crying she's doing I can tell she hasn't made a remarkable recovery from the dead person she was just days ago. She's hiding it all behind a happy facade so no one will worry. She's practicing for when she has to go home to Kallen. She doesn't want him to worry.

"They'll p-put it in the m-magazines!" she sobs into my shoulder. "And- And K-Kallen will see it!"

I pat her back, letting her cry all over me, hoping this will be comfort enough. It's not like I can say, "There, there. It'll all be okay."

One, because I don't talk. Two, because it won't be.

If Mahogany ever had a miscarriage- I shiver at the thought- and millions of Capitol people knew before me, I'd be so angry. But under all that, I'd be the saddest man on earth. Because, don't you feel bad when a friend doesn't tell you something about their lives?

Yeah, so how would you feel if something that was one-half you died and you didn't know about it first?

* * *

_Dexter Kane (D3)_

My "being positive" attitude flew out in the window in, like, five minutes. I'm not an optimist. Never have been. I've always be a pessimist, if you want to define me.

The only time I was ever somewhat optimistic was after I won the Games. I was always secretly in love with Diana, but too shy to tell her. When I won, though, I thought, "Twenty-three people just died and I could have been one of them. Life is too short to not actually live it."

So when I got home, I asked her on a date and we've been together ever since. Well there was that one time . . . I stop myself from thinking of our little fights that we've had. I was never the one to break up with her, even if she infuriated me half the time.

I've actually never broken up with anyone in my life. I mean, I'm not disappointed by the fact I've never broken anyone's heart. It's not like it was a dream of mine.

That would be rude.

I wonder what life would be like if I'd never asked Diana on that date. I can just imagine running into her at the town market. Diana would come over with her husband and I would ask how it's been. They would reply that it's been going swimmingly and inside a little prick of hope would die. Then Diana would ask if I was seeing anyone. I would reply no, wishing she would leave him for me.

I pull out of the small nightmare.

It would certainly be more quiet. I could get the complete silence I've been craving, I wouldn't have to worry about a child. I . . . I could be happily unhappy. And she could be with someone that wouldn't go emotionally dead on her like I did.

It's truly a mine field, being with a Victor. Nightmares, paranoia, sadism, irrational fears of common things, and the fact that you love someone who has _killed_. Horrifying.

I haven't ever killed anyone. Some Gamemaker pushed a button when he fell asleep at the control desk and it made an avalanche go off. It killed the last tribute in my way, I remember his name was Krane.

I vaguely recall hearing that the Gamemaker was burned at the stake. Not the best way to go.

I miss Diana. I miss being able to look at her and feel like she was the only reason I was living. I wasn't ever living for myself, it was always for her. "I miss her."

You always wonder about those little choices in life, no matter what happens. You can be extremely happy and still think, "Well I wonder if I would have made more light bulbs if I would have gotten that damn promotion."

It's a thing. All humans want everything they can get. And when they get it, they usually find it isn't all it's cracked up to be.

When I was young I fantasized about being rich. Look at me now. Richest man in District Three, but also the most terrified of them all. Sure, everyone is scared, but my child is ten times more likely to be reaped, my family could be killed at any moment, I have to get to know people who have a one in twenty-four chance of living through the next month.

I should tell myself to stop thinking about it, but I'd end up thinking about it again anyway.

So I just let it go on.


	39. Caring

**The Mentors**

**_Chapter Thirty-Nine_**

**_Day Six; Part Two_**

_Dara Valentine (D4)_

I've been expecting Damon. To be honest, it really annoys me that he hasn't shown up yet, furious with me for making fun of Quinn. I've been itching for some sort of confrontation and it's frustrating that he won't verbally attack me or something like that. He could even physically attack me and I'd be okay with that.

I would totally beat the shit out of him.

I snort at the thought. Maybe _I_ should go confront him about not confronting me . . .

That sounds promising.

I smile to myself. I am _so_ smart . . . and beautiful . . . pretty much perfect in every way.

I walk calmly down the hall, ready for this full out brawl.

I vaguely wonder if I'd do anything for some sort of adrenaline rush or excitement. I stop. Maybe I shouldn't egg him on, maybe I should just go back to my room and think up even more plans for my wedding. I think about it for a moment and decide against it. I've never backed away from a fight and I'm not going to start now.

I keep walking, well skipping might be the more appropriate term. I love to skip. Anywhere and everywhere. It's my favorite pastime other than bitching at people.

Ah, bitching.

Life should revolve around it. Everyone would be much better for it.

I finally find myself at Damon's door and put a big smile on my face, so I'll look completely carefree. I open the door and smile brightly at Damon, who sits there, looking depressed.

My mood dims as I see his deep frown. Why does he have to look so sad and make me angry at myself for fucking with Quinn?

He looks up at me. "Hi there."

I try to smirk, but fail miserably. "You seem a little down, Marx."

He grimaces. "You don't even know."

"What is that supposed to mean?" I snap.

"I'm not expecting an apology from you, but it would be nice for you to have a heart for a change."

"So you're saying I don't have a heart?" I ask defensively. "I'm getting _married_."

"We're both getting married."

"But I'm not cheating on my fiancé," I point out.

Anger flashes in his eyes, but all he says is, "I don't want to fight with you, Dara, and I sure as hell don't want to talk about _that_."

I give him a small smile. "But, Damon, I _do_ want to talk about it. You musn't keep these things bottled up inside or, I'm afraid, one day you might just . . . _snap_." I hiss out the last word, injecting as much venom into it as possible.

"Dara," he replies firmly. "If you want to talk about that then go outside and talk to the wall, but you won't be talking to me about it."

"Fun sucker."

He chuckles. "I really do think somewhere, deep, _deep_ down inside, there is a pleasant person there."

I give him a sickly sweet smile. "And somewhere deep, deep down inside of you, is a _wonderful_ fiancé."

He scowls. "And there you go again, making me think the worst of you."

"I don't really care if you _think_ the worst of me, when I _know_ the worst of you."

His scowl only grows deeper. "Why bring that shit up over and over again?"

"Because it pisses you off, over and over again," I tease.

He doesn't smile. "I feel like doing some deep soul-searching now, if you don't mind."

I laugh. "Can I just stay and watch? I think this will be interesting, you know, since I know the only thing you'll be thinking about."

He sighs. "Stay, if you must."

"I'd be happy to," I reply, so much sarcasm it would take a moron not to detect it.

Luckily, I am in the presence of a moron.

He doesn't respond as he closes his eyes. I take the opportunity to say, "Seriously? When you said soul-searching, I did _not_ think you meant sleeping. Shows how much of a deep person you are."

He opens one eye to look at me. "Searching here."

"You are so full of shit," I tell him happily. "You think I would believe that you want to do some soul-fucking-searching? Seriously, Damon?"

"I hoped," he mutters.

"So . . ." I suddenly remember why I came. "How is Quinn? When I was speaking to her she seemed distressed . . . for some _odd_ reason."

He glares. "Shut the fuck up."

"That really hurt," I reply dryly. "But how is the dear?"

He sighs. "Not speaking to me."

"I always knew she had a dramatic side . . ."

Damon rolls his eyes. "I had forgotten how much I really can't stand you."

"I'm wounded."

"If I could kill anyone in the world . . ." he muses.

"I'm guessing it would be Quinn?" I mock. "Yeah, that bitch really is annoying."

He huffs at my words. "Can you please leave?"

"Nah," I sneer. "I love you too much to leave you all by your lonesome."

"Annoyance will get you nowhere, Dara."

"It won't, will it?" I say dubiously. "We'll see about that, Damon."

* * *

_Hazel Birchbark (D7)_

Worst. Hangover. Of. My. Life.

Or should I say the _only_ hangover of my life? What the fuck ever. I don't really care, the only thing I can think about is this goddamn pounding in my head.

I can't remember _anything_. Only . . . that Olive died. Didn't she? Yeah, she did. I feel somewhat bad about it, but it's not like I could do anything about it. And I remember . . . a person with me, perhaps? I can't remember anything else.

But I can only think of one person who would come visit me. And I don't like the thought.

"Fuck," I whisper. It must have been Clubb. I didn't want to talk to him anymore, though, and I'm pretty sure he didn't want to speak to me either, so why would he come to my room? Maybe I was out in the hall and he felt the need to take me back to the room before I blurted out everything to everyone?

Maybe I went to _his_ room? I blush at the thought. Why would I do that, though, even if I was pretty damn intoxicated? I want to know, but what if it wasn't him? That would be embarrassing.

I just decide to go with it. If I don't know about what happened then I can't possibly be embarrassed, right?

I roll my eyes at myself. I'm just freaking myself out and that's never good.

Especially at this point in my life. I've always been a loud person, and most people can tell exactly what I'm thinking or feeling- because I yell it at the top of my voice.

Lately, though, I've been finding myself . . . more quiet? I think now, and barely ever say anything. It just seems like the real me is gone. Or is _this_ the real me? I'm not really sure, but hell, when is anyone ever sure?

It's like . . . I'm here . . . but not _here_. It doesn't matter what I do, my heart isn't in it, though my brain tries to make all of me have fun. I don't really understand what the fuck that means, but I've heard people say shit like that and it's always so dramatic, so I thought it might pertain to me also.

Weepy Hazel is not a fun Hazel to be, I've decided, and I'm not going back there. Ever.

I don't care what the fuck happens, I won't be that girl. I could be the only person left on the planet and I'd take it in stride . . . at least I hope I would. I roll my eyes at my vivid imagination.

I miss District Seven, though I miss it every time I'm in the Capitol, so I'm not surprised. I think it's because there are no trees in this place. It's freaky.

The only trees here are the District Seven tributes. I laugh quietly to myself.

Am I hungry? I might be. I'm not really sure. Not knowing if you're hungry or not is a weird sensation when the first fourteen years of your life, you were _always_ hungry.

There's at least one hungry person in every district, I don't think there are any in the Capitol, though. You have to pay monthly bills and if you can't then you'll be deported to a district. Usually they send them to one of the Career districts or Eleven.

I hate not having anything to do. The only person that can stand me is Clubb and I don't think I'm going to go see him for some _odd_ reason.

One, because I'm still somewhat mad at him for all the shit he's said. Two, he's the only one in this place that calls me out on all my shit. And three, I'm embarrassed by what might have happened last night.

I roll my eyes, "Fuck this."

I climb roughly off the bed and walk out into the hallway, hoping to do find something- _anything_- to do with myself. I find my way to . . . where am I? Oh shit.

Now I'm lost.

"Where the hell am I?" I whisper to myself. I shake my head in disappointment. I keep walking and reach sunlight.

Oh my God, I see the sun! I walk through the revolving doors and immediately find myself among throngs of Capitolites. I cringe at the too bright colors and know I look out of place with the outrageous people.

It feels great to have the sun warm my skin, since I haven't in almost a week. I wonder if they have a park somewhere around here..? I guess I'll ask someone.

I stop an almost normal looking man. "Um, do you know if there is a park in the, um, city?"

"Hmm . . ." He thinks for a moment. "I think so, but I don't know exactly where it is. Maybe you should ask someone else."

"Oh," I reply happily. "Thank you . . . sir."

"You look familiar," the man muses. Recognition lights up his face. "Oh! You're Hazel Birchbark! You won the 25th Hunger Games!"

"Uh, yeah, I am," I respond gruffly. "Nice to meet you."

"Can I have an autograph?" he asks with a grin. "I've always wanted to meet a Victor."

I feel anger rise up, but I don't tell him off like I want to. "Sure. Do you have a pen and some paper?"

"You don't carry around photographs?" he asks, aghast.

"I- No, I don't." I grimace. "So do you have some?"

He searches in his satchel and brings out some triumphantly. "Yes I do!"

Don't get so excited, you idiot.

I sign it quickly. "There you go."

I begin to walk away and he yells, "It was so nice to meet you!"

A few people look at me and then smile politely before turning away. I guess they don't recognize me.

I'm thinking that man was a freak amongst freaks.

* * *

_Clubb Paige (D2)_

Everyone is freaking the fuck out. Apparently, a mentor has gone "rogue" and escaped from this place.

Why wasn't I invited?

Damn whoever did it. They've searched my room _twice_ and now are in the process of searching it a third time.

"Who the hell are you looking for anyway?" I bellow and the man searching quakes with terror.

"D-District S-Seven mentor," he whispers.

Hazel? Of course. The idiot. "Does anyone have any idea where she is?"

"W-We haven't been able to located her position."

"I know where she is," I say suddenly and realize, I do.

Where there are trees, there is Hazel.

He gives me a suspicious look. "Did you help her escape?"

I glare and he shrinks back. "No. But I could find her if you let me."

He bites his lip, wondering if this is a good idea. "I'd have to accompany you to keep you in line."

I want to snort. That shrimp keep me in line? Please. "Well, if you must."

He smiles happily and he leads me down a series of hallways before we're _finally_ outside. "So, do you know if there are any parks in this city?"

"Um, there is one, actually." The man thinks for a moment. "Oh, I remember now! It's on Lois Lane."

Lois Lane? That's stupid. "Just tell me where to turn."

"Our founders discovered what we think during our American days was called a comic book." He gives me an expectant expression, like I'm supposed to care. "It was one of the main hero's love interests. Very romantic stuff."

"I'm sure," I reply sarcastically. I sometimes forget Capitolites are immune to sarcasm. It takes a few minutes, but the man begins to tire.

"How about . . . you go . . . on," he pants, breathlessly. "I'll stay here . . . you bring her back." He slowly gives me directions and I memorize them easily.

"Okay," I agree with a grin. I let out a laugh when he collapses against a wall.

Officially the most amusing thing to happen this week.

I walk quickly, not even breaking a sweat like that dopey idiot. I walk for at least thirty minutes until I finally come across the park. It doesn't take me long to find her, red hair blowing in the wind, eyes closed peacefully.

"You've caused quite an uproar today," I tell her, sitting beside her.

She opens an eye. "Who the hell cares."

I grin. "They think you've gone rogue."

"What the fuck does that mean?"

"Um . . ." I think for a moment. "Not really sure, but it can't be anything good if you're the definition."

She smiles, sticking her tongue out at me. "Ass."

"Bitch."

She laughs. "So I . . . I was a little embarrassed this morning about what happened. Even though I don't know what happened. I drank . . . a little."

I snort. "Yeah, a little, sure. You were fucked up."

She blushes. "And what did I say exactly?"

I smile. "Nothing important, really. Came up with a really nice nickname for me, actually."

She gives me a wary look. "What is it?"

"Clubbers," I chuckle. "Very original, that one."

"Oh my God," she mutters and face palms. "I can't believe I did that."

I chuckle. "Well, believe it, little alcoholic."

She laughs. "Clubbers. It _does_ have a nice ring to it."

I roll my eyes. "Don't tell me you're drunk right now."

She rolls her eyes, shaking her head. "So what does being a rogue mean, exactly?"

"It means we need to go back to the building that they jail us in," I tell her and she grimaces. "You at least got thirty minutes out here, that's more than the other mentors can say."

She gives me a long look. It changes suddenly into fear and then back to a neutral expression. She nods slightly and lifts off of the bench. She walks away and I catch up to her quickly. "Why are you walking so fast?"

"I want to get away from you."

Way to be peachy, Hazel.

"Why?"

"Because . . . Because it's all so fucking confusing."

"What do you mean?"

"_You_ confuse me."

"How do I do that?" I ask, but I'm pretty sure I already know the answer.

"You just, you act like you don't care one second and then you talk to me like this and I'm not sure anymore." She shakes her head. "How am I supposed to know which one is an act?"

"I . . ." I understand, but I don't _want_ to tell her. I just feel like I _have_ to. "Hazel. I want you to listen to me for once, because I'm telling the complete truth. I don't know what's going on, either. I've never cared about anyone in my whole life. I've always thought friends and family were disposable, people in general, were disposable. But then I met you and I care. I _care_ and I don't know why. Maybe because you're so like me, but _better_, even though you don't see it. I don't know why, Hazel. But I do. I care."

She looks up at me, shock evident on her face. "I- I care, I care too."

I give her a surprised look. "You do?"

She moves closer. "_I care_."

And then she kisses me and I've forgotten the whole damn conversation for the moment.


	40. Torture

**The Mentors**

**_Chapter Forty_**

**_Day Six; Part Three_**

_Blaise Calder (D10)_

Lilac has been acting odd lately. I'm not sure why, but she has. I give her curious glances and she disregards them and gets that look of deep thought back on her face. I wonder what she's thinking about sometimes- most of the time, actually.

What could possibly make her so preoccupied, and sad? She's always sad.

I glance at her again and she locks eyes with me. "Blaise. Stop looking at me like that."

"Looking at you like what?" I ask, faking innocence.

She groans. "Don't play that innocent game with me. I know you're giving me weird looks and I want to know why now."

I'm suddenly struck by the thought that she'll make a wonderful mother one day. "You just seem really distracted, you know? Kind of off, you can say."

She looks down and bites her bottom lip. "Well, I'm fine."

"No you aren't!" I protest.

"Yes, I am," she insists.

I roll my eyes. "Fine, okay. You aren't distracted. I'll act like I believe that shit."

She sighs. "You are the nosiest person I have ever met in my life, Blaise."

I shrug. "I've heard it all before."

I've always been curious about other people's lives and what's going on. It doesn't matter if I barely know you or we're best friends, I still want to know.

One of my worse habits.

She rolls her eyes. "Of course you have. You're a Nosy Nellie."

"A Nosy Nellie?" I ask in real interest. "Hmm. I've never heard that one before."

She laughs. "So I'm the first? Well don't I feel loved?"

I smile at her. "I guess there's a first time for everything, isn't there?"

She nods slightly, a humored smile still on her face, but her eyes are sad. "Yeah, definitely."

"Nothing wrong, my ass," I mutter.

She gives me a frustrated look before climbing off her bed. "I'm going for a walk."

"Lilac!" I yelled exasperatedly as she walks out of the door. "You're being ridiculous."

I sometimes wonder about Lilac's past. What was going on in her life before she won, what has been going on since then? Pretty much I need a written biography and I'll be completely satisfied. Yeah, I know. Weird.

I did hear something that interested me, though. It's not about Lilac, but it's surprising.

About two days, ago- or was it? I'm not sure, days just blend together when you're in this place- I was just walking down the hall, minding my own business. I was enjoying the freedom of being able to walk down the hall without Lilac tagging along. She takes her job very seriously. And I was just about to round a corner when I heard someone speak.

I quickly realized it was Quinn and Dara talking and it was not a friendly catching-up kind of chat. It was more of the kind of talk when someone accuses a person of cheating with someone else and the one being accused gets really pissed off.

I couldn't really believe my ears. Quinn cheat with Damon? I just thought it was Dara being a lying bitch, as usual, but . . . why would Quinn get so mad if it _wasn't_ true?

I never knew Quinn could be angry or say anything in a furious tone of voice. She just seemed . . . calm and fun-loving. She especially didn't seem like the type to steal another woman's fiancé.

I haven't said anything to anyone, for fear it isn't true and that everyone would figure out and I'd be the one to blame for Damon's fiancée leaving him for no reason at all.

So I won't tell anyone until I've spoken to Quinn or Damon about what I've heard. Most likely I'll go to Quinn. It just seems like it would be easier to talk to her about it than him. Maybe it's because he's the one who is technically cheating.

I decide not to worry about it. Whenever I see her, I'll ask, but until then I shouldn't. I sigh and look up at the screen, thinking about taking a short nap. I haven't slept in about twenty hours, so this will be much needed.

I have to wait for Lilac to get back though, since Fern is still alive. So, I wait, my eyes drifting closed every few seconds and then pinching myself to stay alert.

She sticks her head in the door. "Hey, you're still awake? I thought you would have went to bed by now."

I shake my head tiredly. "Fern."

She nods. "So you want me to watch her while you sleep?"

I yawn. "That'd be nice, yeah."

"Okay, well I have to ask you something, since you know everything that goes on around here somehow." She rolls her eyes.

"Shoot."

"Are . . . is there something going on with Hazel and Clubb? I kind of walked in on them kissing in the kitchen and . . . I was really confused."

My eyes widen in shock.

Apparently, I don't know everything.

"I didn't know that, actually. Um, what did they say?"

"They just . . . laughed and apologized."

"That's . . . good for them."

She smiles kindly at me. "Well, that's all. Goodnight, Blaise."

"'Night," I mutter back, already drifting off.

* * *

_Lilac Parrish (D6)_

Blaise is out in a heartbeat.

I roll my eyes at his sleeping body. He's only gotten about four hours of sleep in the last twenty-four. Poor kid. I scowl at the prospect of a long night of watching the television with no one to talk to.

I could go see Quinn, but I don't know if she'd want me. We haven't talked much during these Games. I've been busy watching over Blaise like the doctors asked me to and she's been spending most of her time with Damon.

It kind of surprised me, them being great friends. They've known each other for two years, and were friends during his first mentoring year, but I never saw them as being as close as they are now.

Eh. I guess I'll go see her. I can't even get out the liquor bottle, though. No fun in that. I walk silently across the room and close the door behind me as quietly as possible.

I walk through the halls quickly, wary of each turn. I'm going to be like this until I forget the run in with Hazel and Clubb. I shudder at the thought. I knew they would be friends, it was just a matter of time, but I never expected _that_ kind of relationship.

I kind of thought she was in love with Birch. Just the way she talked about him when I asked if they were close. She got a caring sort of tone in her voice and even smiled a bit.

I hum a tune as I walk down the last stretch. I knock on Quinn's door softly. She opens it a crack with a wary look on her face. She smiles when she sees it's me. "Oh, hey you!"

"Hi, Quinn," I greet. She opens the door wider and I smile as I enter her room. I sit on a stray chair and twirl the frayed ends. This will be gone by the end of our stay.

The Capitol can't have damaged furniture.

Of course not.

"So, how are you?" I ask.

She bites her lip, then smiles brightly. "Pretty good. What about you? I've heard you've been with Blaise under 'doctor's orders?'"

I laugh. "Yeah. I have. He's a good kid, Quinn. Very kind, if a little nosy."

She nods. "Yeah, I've heard that. I mean, the nice part, not the nosy part."

I smile. "So, how's Damon?"

Her eyes darken and her smile seems dreadfully fake. "As far as I know, he's fine."

"Ugh . . . okay." I give her a curious glance. "Have you not been talking to him?"

"We had a . . . disagreement," she mutters.

"I'm sorry," I comfort quietly. "What was it about?"

She doesn't have a suitable lie for this and stares at me for a few seconds. "Ugh, what did you just say?"

I smile, trying to seem nonchalant. "What was the fight about?"

"Oh, nothing important." She frowns. "I guess I just ruffled his feathers."

I nod and eye her disbelievingly. "Yeah, it's . . . really bad when that happens."

We fall into an awkward silence. I don't know if it's because I know she's lying, and she knows I know she's lying, or if it's just because we've fallen out of touch.

"So how's Valor?" she questions brightly.

"He's great," I answer darkly and it's her turn to stare at me disbelievingly.

"Is he?" she replies. "That's great."

Awkward silence.

_Again_.

I make a decision. "Maybe we should try being honest with each other. That might help."

"I guess." I give her an expectant look and she sighs. "I got into a fight with Damon about Dara. He told her something. Something private."

I'm not sure if that's meant to tell me what kind of thing he told her or just to keep me from asking about it. "He told Dara something? That's . . . unusual."

"Apparently he had a moment of weakness," she says scathingly.

"But even if he _did_ have a moment of weakness, why _Dara_?" I say confusedly.

"Who the fuck knows," she spits.

I reel back in shock. I've never heard her angry before. "But he did it and I'm furious."

I look down and nod. When I look back up, she's looking at me expectantly. "Well, Valor isn't okay. Neither am I. Something _private_ happened."

She narrows her eyes at my choice of words and breathes deeply. "Damon has feelings for me and I think I have feelings for him too."

I suck in a quick breath. Okay. Damon and Quinn.

Damon getting married.

What the _fuck_?

"Um, I- I did . . . _not_ expect that."

She glares but waits for me to speak. Mine is worse, much worse. But I have to tell her because she told me hers. "I found out . . . that an injury I got in the Games . . . has . . . made me unable to have children." The last part comes out fast and forced.

She gasps. "_Lilac_. Why did you tell me that? Mine is . . . _trivial_ compared to that."

"I just . . . felt like it was the right thing to do."

Suddenly, I hear a low scream and look at the television screen.

I cringe in horror. While we've been having our talk Anneliese has ambushed Fern and . . . I shudder in horror and gag.

Torture. Face sliced up so all I see is red, bottom part of her jaw gone, hands cut off. I suck in a breath and calm myself. I turn away from the horror happening on the screen and wait until the cannon fires and Fern's body is taken away.

It's the final three now. The Elevens and Anneliese are to fight it out for the victory.

But even if they kill Anneliese, what will the Elevens do then..?

"Was that..?" Quinn's question is soft and repulsed.

"Blaise's tribute," I answer quickly.

"Are you going to go tell him?" she asks.

"No," I reply. "He needs his sleep."

* * *

_Ronny Pied (D5)_

I have a letter. A fucking letter. Who is it from? I tear it out of the Capitol girl's hands and look at the name. My heart sinks.

Kallen. He must know. He _must_.

I run to Ivo's room and bust in the door, tears running down my face. He gives me a startled expression but sees the letter and his face pales. His expression is clear: _Have you read it?_

"I c-can't!" I sob. "What if he knows?"

I can tell he thinks I'm in no shape to be up or reading a dramatic letter. It doesn't matter when all I'll probably do is cry on it so much, you can't even read what it says.

I give it to him and sit across the room and he tears it open. Any other time it would be a huge invasion of privacy, but I can't do it so he must. He reads over it quickly, eyes moving back and forth. His eyes widen as more cries of anguish spill from my mouth.

He looks like he is inwardly chastising himself for any sort of expression. "What does it say?"

He shakes his head, signaling he's not done yet. I grind my teeth. "Hurry the fuck up."

He glares for a split second, but quickly changes it to a blank one. He finishes the letter and looks up, his face whiter than it was to begin with, if that's even possible.

He hands it to me and I try to pull myself together before I read it. I accomplish it many minutes later. I suck in a deep breath and read:

_Dear Ronny,_

_I've been getting trickles of information on what is going on up there with you in the Capitol, so don't even accuse me of prying. I was sent a package- isn't that strange?- and it turned out to be a magazine. Well, on the front page of said magazine was your face and the caption "Winner of the 19th Hunger Games Has Miscarriage." _

_Do you know how much I've been freaking out? I need to know if it's true and I want to why, if it is, you didn't tell me? This is one of the worst things that has ever happened to me and I hear about it from a _magazine_? That's all I will say in a letter on the matter._

_So send me a reply as soon as you can. I need to know what to tell your family before they get magazines too and your mom has a heart attack._

_Sincerely, Kallen_

I suck in a deep breath. The thoughts carry on like the beat of my heart.

He. Knows. He. Knows. He. Knows.

It just doesn't seem real. He was so . . . cold. So unfriendly. He signed it 'sincerely,' he's never done that before.

I notice tear stains on the paper and I know, for once, they're not mine.

I hug the letter to my chest and sob, rocking back and forth. These are all the tears I've suppressed over the years, coming out in one moment. I sob for hours and I know Ivo is getting tired, as his patting my back is getting slower and slower.

I look up at his face. "What am I . . . supposed . . . to do?"

His face says it all: _There's nothing you can do._

"I c-can . . . say . . . I didn't want to tell him through a letter, right?" I hold my aching chest. "W-Wouldn't that w-work?"

He doesn't look convinced: _Ronny, you need to sleep._

"I . . . I can't move," I whisper.

He sighs and it's like he's saying the words out loud: _I'll go to your room._

"I d-don't want to . . ." My voice trails off as another wave of sobs rack my tiny figure.

His eyes are tight:_ I'll just sleep on the floor or maybe the chair._

"'K-Kay."

It doesn't take long before my eyes dry up. Even if I wanted to let it all out for hours more, I can't. I can only lay here, depressed. "Ivo? I'll get on the floor. You get up here."

I see him shake his head.

"It's _your_ bed."

He sighs, but doesn't make a move to change places with me._  
_

"Are you sure?" I question anxiously.

He smiles, nodding.

He falls asleep more quickly on the floor than I do in the bed.

I sigh at the thoughts whirling through my mind. Will Kallen ever forgive me? Will our relationship be ruined because of this?

"Just . . . don't think about it, Ronny," I whisper to myself. "It'll only make it worse. So don't, okay?"_  
_


	41. Unreal

**The Mentors**

**_Chapter Forty-One_**

**_The Victor_**

_Damon Marx (D9)_

It's so damn close to being over. I'm kind of wary of the end though, since watching Fern's demise. I wonder how Blaise is holding up after that spectacle. I also imagine what Anneliese would say to Fern's family if she won.

I can see her saying something like, "Your daughter deserved to die, I can't help if I moved along the process. And I'm sorry if I made her death a little fun. Sue me." And then Clubb would clap like the monster he is. The monsters they both are . . .

I think about what she has in store for the Eleven tributes who seem to be getting closer by the fucking hour. I fear more for Zale than I do for Laurel. Even if they did somehow kill Anneliese, he wouldn't even think of killing Laurel. I'm just not sure what she would do.

I'm sure Aurora has thought about this a lot over the past few hours. It would be more surprising if she _hadn't_.

It will all be over soon, I'm sure. The Capitol will demand it. They will be forced together by the end of the day, if they haven't found each other by then.

I sigh. I'm pretty sure they only thought of mentoring to keep the hell that the Victors go through go on throughout our whole lives. Another one of the fucked up things the Capitol does.

To be honest, I just really hate everything right now.

I miss my family, I miss Trevor, and most of all, I miss Hope. I feel like such a damn ass, not knowing what I feel for anyone anymore.

I slam backwards onto my bed. "I hate how I'm treating everyone."

Why am I such a dick? What made me such a dick in the first place? Why am I asking such stupid, rhetorical questions?

I sigh to myself. This is how people go crazy. Thinking too much.

If I had someone to talk to about my thoughts, maybe I wouldn't think so much about it. The only one who knows is Dara, and I don't really feel like dealing with her today. Or any day, for that matter.

I could always go . . . I stop the thought. And what Damon, get your ass yelled at again? Nope. Not doing that. That's not even supposed to be the reason I can't go. The reason I can't go is because of Hope. Not the fear of another disagreement.

What's the use of chastising myself about my thoughts on why I shouldn't go? Either way I'm not going. That's the big picture, right? Ugh. Probably not the best picture I could conjure up but a better one than to be expected in this situation.

See, the horrible part about it is that I miss them both. But in different ways. My missing of Hope is overran by guilt, which makes it ten times worse than it would be if it was only the longing to be with her. I can't separate the guilt and the missing so I don't know if I miss Quinn or Hope more, which only intensifies my frustration and confusion.

Is it sad that if I tell myself to stop thinking about it, I only think about it more? I purse my lips to the side and sigh.

Of course, that is when someone bursts into the room.

I look up in shock to see Quinn standing there. I suck in a sharp breath, and take in her features greedily. She's here in front of me and looking at me with no hostility in her eyes.

One for the scrapbook.

She sits down across the room from me without a word. We stare for what seems like hours. She licks her lips. "We need to talk about this."

I nod without a word. She sighs. "But not right now. I want to spend a few minutes with you one more time when it isn't extremely uncomfortable."

I nod again, silently agreeing with her. "So how has it been?"

"Peachy," she says with a slight smile.

I smile at her. "Have you talked to anyone in the past day?"

She nods. "Garl and Lilac."

"Anything good?" I tease, trying to lighten the mood.

She smirks, but it slowly turns to a frown as she speaks. "They know."

I blink at her. "Know what?"

"About this."

"_Y-You told them_?" I give her a wide-eyed look, hoping she's just joking, or even just being mean, trying to make me feel like she did when she realized I told Dara.

"I did." She bites her lip. "Don't give me that look."

"What look?" I question, anger rising up. "The look that shows I'm wondering what the fuck is wrong with you?"

She breathes deeply. "Garl is a sweet old man, who wouldn't tell a soul. Lilac wouldn't tell, and even if she was the type of person to tell, she told me something in return that she doesn't want anyone to know. You told _Dara_. The attention-whore who would tell anyone and everyone at the drop of a hat."

I stare at her for a second, anger slowly dissipating. "I'm sorry. I know I shouldn't have. It was just . . . there was a story running in a magazine that I was having an affair with that girl, Blossom. She told me there was a story but not who it said I was cheating with. I freaked out and when she told me who it was, she accused me of cheating because apparently 'no innocent man would freak out that much.'"

She nods. "That's understandable, I guess. I'm sorry for yelling, and I'm sorry for . . . well everything. When you told me, I shouldn't have freaked out like I did _or_ treated you like I did. I was just . . . overwhelmed, I guess."

I nod with a light smile, and decide to actually be serious. "My time here . . . has changed everything. In all seriousness, I'm not sure what I'm going to do, but I do know I don't want our friendship . . . well, whatever this is, to end."

* * *

_Clubb Paige (D2)_

"So . . . your sister lives with you?" Hazel questions with a smile.

I roll my eyes. "Yes, she lives with me."

She grins mischievously. "I bet you two are the _best_ of friends."

I envision fist fights as young children, screaming, and silently glaring daggers at each other. "Yeah, you could say that."

She laughs. "I bet you're nicer than you come off as. Deep down inside."

"Hazel, I hate _everyone_."

"You don't hate me," she points out coyly, biting her lip.

"Yeah, well you're _you_."

She smiles slightly, pulling me into a kiss. She leans back. "You should keep talking. You're actually doing a good job of complimenting me."

I stare at her for a second. "I didn't exactly mean it as a compliment . . . just a fact. But, if you'd like to take it that way, well by all means . . ."

She laughs. "And with that lovely comment, I'm leaving."

"Aw, Hazel," I complain. "You know I didn't mean it like."

She smirks. "Of course I know you didn't mean it like. I just like to see you get your panties in a twist."

I glare and she laughs before walking out, a gentle- well, gentle for her- smile thrown over her shoulder back at me. I frown to myself, wondering about all this.

I'm in a relationship with Hazel.

It's . . . _bizarre_.

I don't really know what to do with myself, actually. Am I supposed to act differently? I shake my head. Just don't worry about it and be your usual charmingly sadistic self.

I turn to the television, trying to figure out what the hell is going on. I've been a little . . . preoccupied, since Hazel and I decided to try this out and see where it took us.

From what I can deduce, it's Anneliese and the Elevens in the final three. I snort in derision. I know I'm supposed to root for Anneliese since she's my tribute and all, but I seriously don't give a fuck who wins this thing.

I'm such an uncaring mentor. They should really fire me from this job. It would be so much easier on all of us.

I watch through wary eyes as they send lightning strikes down to keep Anneliese going in the right direction as she hunts down the other two.

Arenas are huge creations.

And let me tell you, it's such a bitch to hunt people down in them.

It switches to the Elevens suddenly as Laurel looks up from the spot in the valley they're standing in to the horizon. She gets a confused expression on her face. "I think I just saw lightning."

Zale gives her an equally confused look. "So?"

"There aren't any clouds," she informs, face alight in curiosity. "And wouldn't we hear thunder?"

"Coincidence?" Zale asks hopefully.

"Not likely," Laurel replies with an eye roll. "They're leading her here by lightning strikes."

Zale takes Laurel's hand and gives her a grave look. "Are you ready for this?"

She tries to smile. "As ready as a person can be in this situation."

He gives her a tender look as he brings her hand to his mouth and kisses it. "You'll be fine."

"_We'll_ be fine," she corrects warily.

"Of course," he says smoothly, but turning away his expression makes it seem as though he is unsure of the fact. I don't know what the hell is going through this guy's mind, but I'm glad I will never be someone like him.

In minutes, Anneliese walks into the valley. They have a stare down and I'm really ready _to get this shit over with_.

Stop it with the theatrics, I mean, _come on_!

Anneliese smirks at the two. "So how are you? Ready to die?"

Laurel's eyes narrow in concentration. "Let's just get this over with."

Thank you, Laurel.

Anneliese snarls and lunges forward, full out sprint mode. Laurel has the upper hand at the moment with the longer distance, and I'm sure she'll want to end it before hand-to-hand is the only thing to do.

Laurel nocks an arrow and aims. She lets the arrow fly and Anneliese ducks and rolls, the arrow zooming right over her head. Laurel hurriedly and nervously nocks another, and aims. Zale readies his sword just in the off chance that Anneliese dodges again.

Laurel shoots and a sudden change in air flow knocks the arrow off course, plowing it into the ground a few feet in front of Anneliese's moving figure. Zale steps in front of Laurel as Anneliese is only a few feet away.

Laurel tries to push past him, but he knocks her backwards with a swipe of his large arm. Anneliese is there, and metal clangs against metal, Anneliese clearly having the upper hand. In minutes, Zale has already sustained a leg injury and is tiring.

Laurel stands there, looking around in confusion. She darts forward suddenly to help and then backs away slowly, thinking better of it. Anneliese cackles in delight as she manages another injury to a failing Zale.

Laurel gapes, wide-eyed and open-mouthed, as Anneliese delivers a deep wound to Zale's stomach. He yells out in pain and falls to the ground, chest heaving.

Laurel's mouth opens and closes as she sees her boy toy bleeding and groaning in pain. Anneliese laughs at her. "Think you could win? Ha!"

Laurel bites her lip, eyes still trained on Zale. Anneliese doesn't move, throwing out taunts that Laurel isn't paying any attention to.

I ground my teeth in frustration. "Idiot! Finish her!"

Zale groans in pain and Laurel's eyes finally leave his convulsing frame. She looks at Anneliese for a second, as if shocked to see she's standing there. A fire erupts suddenly in her eyes and she nocks and arrow and lets it fly faster than I've ever seen.

And I live in District fucking Two.

The arrow buries itself into Anneliese's throat and she drops to the ground. Laurel stares at the girl for a moment, and unlike her other kills, no regret flashes across her face.

I roll my eyes at the sound of Anneliese's cannon.

* * *

_Aurora Fairchild (D11)_

Laurel stumbles over to Zale. He is still alive, still groaning in pain. She falls to her knees beside him and stares at his wound. "Zale . . . I should have done something."

His eyes open, blue eyes flashing. "No, y-you did the right thing. Only one of us could live either way, right?"

"Please . . . don't die." She shakes her head wildly. "You can't die. It's not going to happen. You'll be fine. _We'll_ be fine . . ."

She babbles for a few more seconds about how he can't die. He takes his hand from his bleeding side, and grabs her hand. She gulps at his blood, now staining her pale white hands. He looks at her, eyes narrowed in pain. "Laurel, you need to listen to me."

A tear makes a trail through the dirt and grime down her face and I notice I'm crying too.

Sobbing, really.

He bites his lip. "Take care of my mother and sister. They don't . . . have anyone."

"You're not dying," she says with a frazzled laugh. "You're going to go home and be fine."

He squeezes her hand. "Laurel . . . I'm going to die."

She takes in a quick breath and when she releases it, you can hear the rattling of sobs building up. "Zale . . . _please_ . . ."

"I need you to promise me. Please . . . take care of them."

I don't really think Laurel knows that she's nodding, but she does. He sighs in relief. "It doesn't really hurt anymore."

"Zale," she whispers caressing his face. "I'm so sorry. I should have helped you."

"I don't blame you, Laurel," he whispers sincerely. "This is how it was supposed to happen. Y-You take care of yourself."

"I don't want to live in a world that doesn't have you in it," she hisses urgently. "I don't want to live in a world that would take you away."

"Well, you do," he argues. His words are becoming fainter, his eyes fluttering. He's fighting to stay awake, just to comfort her for a few more seconds. "Don't be sad, just live for me, okay? Would that make it easier?"

"Honestly, no," she says tears running in rivulets down her face.

He smiles at her, affection in his eyes. "You are one of a kind."

His eyes glaze over in the blankness of death. She stares at him, sobs racking her body. The announcer's voice yells out, "Ladies and gentlemen, I am pleased to present the Victor of the Thirtieth Hunger Games; Laurel Farley, of District Eleven!"

She takes in a deep breath and mutters, "I don't want to win."

It becomes a chant, her murmuring over and over, growing louder, until it's a scream. "_I don't want to fucking win!_"

A ladder drops down, a person climbing down and injecting her, not without some kicking and even more screaming, with a sedative. Finally they get her into the hovercraft and the program blinks off.

My tribute won.

She's alive and will be living with me and Locust in Victor's Village. I revel in the feeling for a few minutes. But her face after Zale's death keeps flashing in my mind throughout that time.

The momentary awe is now over.

She'll blame herself for the rest of her life. She'll miss him for the rest of her life. I just don't know if she can handle that, can handle the nightmares or the mentoring.

I cry at the unfairness of it all for her.

Fluffy pops in. "_Aurora_! She _won_! Oh, honey, I'm sorry about Zale, I really did like him. It's such a shame. But you have to think positively! Laurel won and you were responsible for this!"

"No, I'm not responsible for this," I hiss. "This is not my fault."

She pauses. "Sweetie, I'm confused. What are you talking about?"

"This isn't my fault. None of this is my fault! It's all you people's faults! You're the ones who started this messed up shit! You're the reason behind all this, why she won't ever be the same! Why Zale is fucking dead!"

I close my eyes and hear Fluffy hesitantly leave. I let out another high-pitched sob.

This feels so unreal, but I know when I wake up in the morning, it will still be this world greeting me.

**A/N: So Laurel won. How do you guys feel about her victory?  
**


	42. Party

**The Mentors  
**

**_Chapter Forty-Two_**

_Aurora Fairchild (D11)_

There is always a party amongst the mentors after the Games have officially ended. It's supposed to be a chance for the year's Victor to meet everyone. But it's really just a way to rub it in the other mentors' faces that their tributes lost.

We're all required to come; it's a small get together, only twelve Victors and the newest thirteenth. Usually the Head Gamemaker will stop by to say a few words about how proud he is for yet another successful Games.

And we'll all clap politely while imagining him dying in the back of our minds.

Garl always makes a speech. He's the oldest, he's here every year, and is the only one who can really preach to the rest of us without getting contempt-filled glares thrown back at him.

I smile at Laurel, she gazes blankly back at me. "Are you sure you're ready for this?"

"Do I have a choice?" she asks with a grim smile. My answering sigh only makes her look around confusedly. "Let's just get this over with."

We walk slowly, silently, to where they always hold the party. Some of the other eleven people look up from their conversations to give Laurel long, pitying glances. Others don't care to glance at us.

She frowns to herself. "These people seem _peachy_."

"Just try to be nice, okay?" She shoots me a dismissing glance.

Garl slowly walks up to us with a hesitant smile. "Hello there, Aurora, nice to see you again."

"It's nice to see to too, Garl," I greet with a small smile at the man. It's like him to be the first to introduce himself to Laurel.

He turns to her. "I'm Garland Riggs, the District Twelve Victor. Congratulations are in order."

"Yeah," she agrees sarcastically. "Lucky me."

Garl looks down awkwardly. "It's nice to meet you."

"I feel the same way," she assures hurriedly, realizing her earlier tone was anything but friendly. "It's just bad circumstances."

Garl nods. "So are you . . . how are you?"

I wince at Laurel's expression. I'm pretty sure she's trying not to think about the Games, especially the ending. She sucks in a calming breath before replying, "Dandy."

I sigh, forcing a smile onto my face. "Well, it was nice talking to you, Garl, but I think Laurel needs a chance to introduce herself to everyone."

Laurel smiles, but it doesn't reach her eyes. "It was nice meeting you."

I let her get a few steps away from Garl before I round on her. "_Stop_. I know you shouldn't have to do this, but can you try and be civil for once?"

She stares at me for a few seconds, then seems to deflate. "I'm sorry. I just . . . _can't_ right now."

"You don't have a choice," I reply, hurting for her. "Look, I know how you feel-."

Her eyes blaze with sudden anger. "No, you don't know how I fucking feel, so stop acting like you do."

"I'm a Victor too," I splutter. "I _know_ how you feel."

"Oh, you fell in love with someone in your Hunger Games, too?" she snaps, voice full of sarcastic venom. "I didn't know it was such a common occurrence, forgive me."

"You didn't love him," I blurt, then cover my mouth with my hand. "I'm sorry-."

"You don't know the first thing about me loving him," she replies viciously. "Unless, along with the power to make people want to blow their fucking brains out just by opening your mouth, you can also feel others emotions. You are _such_ a talented person."

I glare. "Laurel-."

"Hello there," Dara greets and we both turn sharply to look at her. I plaster on a fake smile, Laurel continues to glare. "Did I come over at a bad time? Silly me."

Laurel scowls. "No we were just discussing the weather."

Dara laughs. "Sounds like an interesting topic."

"You don't even know," Laurel replies, only a small bit of anger still on her face. "Do you guys have any alcohol at this party?"

Dara laugh. "Well, of course. I'll show you."

"That's not the best-."

"Shut up, Aurora," Laurel hisses.

And there she goes with _Dara_. Off to get drunk and bond over their shared interests of being bitches to everyone- even people that wanted to help them.

Garl gives a quick speech. He tells us that once again he is proud of our resolve to be good people.

I can almost hear Dara, Clubb, and Hazel laughing their asses off.

He says that he's sure all of us have been through a lot this week. Everyone seems to have someone to look at.

Except me.

It's weird. All of these people seem to have good friends among each other. All I've done this week is watch Zale and Laurel fight it out. It almost makes me wish I had a functioning social life.

I walk over to where I saw Dara and Laurel standing a few minutes ago.

And holy shit, she had a whole bottle of vodka that she's drinking in great gulps.

I march over to her and tear it from her hands. "_Laurel_!"

"What?" she asks with a giggle.

"You can't just do shit like this!" I exclaim, garnering the attention of a few of the other mentors.

She scoffs. "You're not my mother."

"Well she's not here to get you out of this mess, so I'm going to," I reply fiercely.

Laurel raises an eyebrow. "Aurora, I don't feel like talking to you. And you know why? Because you're fucking annoying. I'm sure that's why no one else talks to you either."

I stare at her in shock. Dara snorts, and I hear a few other laughs from behind me, while others stare quietly into their drinks. It seems like ages before I can think of anything to say to her, but it's only seconds.

I try to calm myself. "You're already self-destructing."

* * *

_Lilac Parrish (D6)_

"Laurel is . . . not in a good place," Blaise whispers to me, watching the confrontation unfold. "I didn't expect anything more from her, but this is hard to see."

"I understand her," I reply with a sad smile. "She might be a bitch to people she doesn't care about, but I'm sure she genuinely cares about some, and one of those people was just killed in front of her. Plus, she could have helped him, so she probably feels insanely guilty."

Blaise raises an eyebrow at me. "Well, I can truthfully say, I did not expect that to come out of your mouth."

I shrug. "No one here seems to be giving her the benefit of the doubt, which I find hypocritical since we've all been through the same thing."

"I don't feel that way," Blaise snaps. "I didn't expect much more for her at this moment, the freaking day after she got out of the arena. They shouldn't have made her come."

"I didn't say you were," I reply, eyes searching through the crowd for the blonde girl. "Aurora seems to have written her off. She's not self-destructing at the moment, but if Aurora keeps putting it in her mind that she is, she will."

Blaise shakes his head. "Why do you think Aurora is being . . . a hypocrite, as you say?"

I grimace. "I think hers is more that she's not really in a good place, either."

Blaise stares at Aurora from afar. "I hate how right you are."

Aurora storms out of the room and after a few seconds, everyone begins to speak again. Hazel and Clubb start to migrate towards Laurel and Dara.

Of fucking course.

I grin. "I'm always right."

He rolls his eyes and I bite my lip. "I don't want to be here anymore."

He gives me a concerned look. "Do you feel sick?"

"No, I just want to go back to our room," I tell him. "I don't like this 'party.'"

He nods with a knowing look. "Let's go then."

We walk through the turns of the hallways, talking and laughing. We round the last corner in time to see Aurora leaning against the wall, sobbing.

Blaise and I share startled looks before warily walking towards her. "Aurora?"

She looks up, muttering a curse. "I'm sorry, I didn't think anyone would be coming through here. I'll just go."

She starts to walk away, but I bound forward, stopping her. "Aurora . . . come sit with us. You don't need to be by yourself after the week you've probably been having."

She gives me a watery smile, before leaning into me for a hug. I hug her back, a bit surprised but it isn't an unwelcome thing. I lead her back to the room, Blaise traveling behind us.

I open the door, sitting Aurora on my bed. She gives me a thankful look. "Thanks Lilac. You're really nice."

"It's okay, Aurora," I reply gently. I tilt my head to the side. "Is it okay if I call you something other than Aurora? It's a bit of a mouthful."

"Sure." She smiles warmly. "Do you have anything in mind?"

"How about 'Rora?" I offer.

She shakes her head. "Someone . . . someone at home calls me that. It would be weird. Any other ideas?"

"There's Rory..?" I smile softly. "You look like a Rory."

She deliberates and finally agrees, biting her lip. Blaise sits in the corner, looking bored. I shoot him a small smile, which he returnes quickly. "Okay, Rory. Let me start by saying that Laurel's not in a good place. So don't judge her too harshly."

Aurora opens her mouth to object, but I silence her with a hand. "Don't argue. Just give me a chance to explain why I think this, and then you can talk, okay?"

Aurora nods silently. "I know that this week will have been hard on you. I know no one was there for you other than Fluffy. But all Laurel had was Zale . . . and now he's gone. It's still too fresh in her mind for any of her words to be taken seriously. Just don't give up on her over a few insults, Rory."

Aurora is silent for a few minutes, pulling away from me. "She just knows exactly what to say to hurt me. I don't know how she does, but she can. You know how many people at home I'm friends with? One. No one wants to socialize with a killer."

"Rory . . .

"Especially one that no one was friends with in the first place," Aurora continues. "Locust has friends, but only people he knew before. I never had any to begin with."

Blaise speaks up, "Just tune her out. Eventually she'll get tired of insulting someone who doesn't take it to heart."

"Ignore her?" Aurora replies doubtfully. "It's kind of hard when you know for a fact everything she's saying is the truth."

* * *

_Quinn McKinney (D8)_

"Well that's . . . unfortunate," Damon whispers. "Way to ruin a party."

I roll my eyes and jut an elbow into his side. "_Shh_."

He sucks in a breath before glaring at me. "Well everyone else is saying it. Why can't I?"

I look around covertly at the people around me. They all seem to be whispering about the confrontation. When Aurora stalked out in tears everyone had been stunned into silence, but after a few minutes, I guess everyone decided it was okay to talk about what happened.

I saw Lilac and Blaise leave, something they will most likely be chewed out for by an official.

"Because it's rude to talk about someone," I whisper back.

He sighs. "Everyone just seems to be in a bad mood, now."

I glance around the room again, focusing on the people's expressions.

I'm shocked to realize that he's right. Some just looked troubled, while others openly glare at Laurel. I see the girl who everyone is thinking about, whether good or bad, ranting to Dara, Hazel, and Clubb.

I raise my eyebrows. "You're right. Gosh, I wonder how Aurora's feeling."

I've always liked Aurora and we usually spend time together during the Games when I'm not with Garl or Lilac. With all the drama this week, though, I don't think I've even said a word to her.

"Like shit, I'm sure," Damon replies with a shrug. "Laurel doesn't look so good either."

I take another glance at the seventeen-year old. "She looks like she's about to vomit."

Damon sighs before striding forward. I stare for a few moments before jogging to catch up with him. "What are you doing?"

"Taking Laurel to her room," he informs me casually. "Or someone's going to be cleaning the floor."

"You don't know her!" I hiss. "And you're taking it upon yourself to get her back to her room?"

He grins. "Saving damsels in distress is a hobby of mine."

"Don't you think Dara could get her there safely?" I demand, ignoring his comment.

"Dara and safety don't go together."

There's no more time to argue, we're walking into the group of four people. I hang back while he greets them with ease. Damon smiles at Laurel, introducing himself. He skillfully extracts the vodka bottle from Laurel's hands, passing it to Hazel without a word.

Laurel faces twists into an outraged look but she can't find the words to protest.

"If you guys don't mind, Quinn and I are going to take Laurel to her room." He grins. "She looks a bit tired."

Clubb and Hazel shrug before walking away. Dara smiles at Damon mockingly. "Don't try to turn my new friend over to the good side, Damon. It's kind of lonely, being evil."

Damon rolls his eyes. "Would you rather me leave her with you, so she can vomit on you? I'd like to see that."

Dara glares viciously. "Fine. Take her."

Laurel stares at everyone disbelievingly. Damon grabs the girls arm, steering her towards the door. I walk rapidly toward them, quickly catching up with the two.

I'm not sure if Laurel hasn't noticed me, or if she's just ignoring my existence.

I'm sure it's the latter.

She's busy arguing with him from what I can see. "Where the hell are you taking me?"

"Back to your room," he answers shortly.

"I'm not telling you where it is," she replies stubbornly.

"I'll take you to Aurora's then," Damon threatens.

Her face falls and she glares fiercely at him. "You guys have moved back into your original rooms, right? Do you even have an idea where her room is?" We've all moved out of the viewing rooms and back to the rooms we had during the pre-Game festivities.

"Floor Eleven," Damon answers with a smirk. "I'm sure it won't be that hard to find."

She glares for a few more seconds before giving in and telling him where her room is. It isn't the room she had stayed in before, it's a newer room they have just recently added on in the past year. It's apparently for the Victors to stay in after they've won the Games.

I want to hit myself for being so stupid. _Of course_ that's where she would be staying. Damon must not have heard about it.

The only thing I remember hearing is the basic information, and the rumor that it cost more than five of the older rooms. It's absurd to me, to spend that much money on a room for _one_ person to stay in a few days of the year.

Laurel tears her arm from Damon's grip suddenly. "You don't need to fucking hold me upright. I'm not that drunk."

Damon watches Laurel like a hawk for a few seconds, checking to see if she stumbles or maybe even to make sure she doesn't try to run away. She does neither so he looks away after a few seconds. We walk along silently.

We're riding up on the elevator when he turns to look at me. "Remember the last time we were on this together? With Dara?"

I giggle. "And I was trying to keep you two from killing each other."

He laughs. "It was a lot simpler then, don't you think?"

I smile sadly. "It was."

Laurel grimaces. "You two make me want to barf, which might not be saying a lot since I drank more than I should have, but _still_. Aren't you like twenty years older than him?"

I glare at her. "It's weird for people that have a _ten_-year age difference to be friends?"

She raises an eyebrow dubiously. "Oh, you two are just friends? _Sure_."

I'm not going to argue with Laurel, she can think what she wants.

Damon and I have decided to disregard whatever feelings we have, anyway. We aren't meant to be together, that much is apparent. As much as it hurts me to think it, he's supposed to be with Hope.

Laurel gives us one more disgusted look when the elevator doors open, before turning green and running to her room. She makes it just in time to her bathroom, and I can hear her retching through the walls.

Ugh.

I look down, stepping out of the elevator. "I'll go make sure she's okay. You can go."

Damon frowns at my disgruntled expression. "Her opinion doesn't matter, Quinn. If we ever changed our minds, I wouldn't care who disapproved."

And then the elevator doors close and I can't disregard the fluttering in my stomach as nothing.


	43. Absurd

**The Mentors  
**

_**Chapter Forty-Three  
**_

_Ivo Wright (D1)_**  
**

I frown as Ronny makes weak objections to the stylist's work. We don't have to look _that_ good for the cameras, the focus being Laurel and Aurora, but Ronny looks like hell.

Having a miscarriage, what seemed to be a failing relationship, and all of that being common knowledge gets you _this_. Add no sleep into the mix and you've got yourself some extensive hours of much needed primping.

I just said primping, didn't I?

I'm so manly.

Ronny shoots me a pleading look and I respond with a mere shrug. If I was Ronny, I wouldn't be asking for me to piss off a man who is busily making her pretty by almost inserting a stick of eyeliner into her eye.

But that's just my humble opinion.

She mutters an expletive when the stylist "accidentally" pokes her. By the self-satisfied smirk the guy is wearing, I'm almost positive he did it on purpose.

Asshole.

Ronny gives me a watery-eyed stare. "Do you worry about home, Ivo?"

I level a look at her. The truth is, everyday I'm away from my family, I can't _help_ but worry a little bit. She seems to know what's running through my mind, and frowns. "Yeah, me too."

Ronny tries to give me a small smile, but it doesn't fully form. "It hurts even worse to worry. Maybe it's because I'm not sure he'll be there when I go home."

I tense for the waterworks- they always come when she talks about him, I've learned- but the stylist blatantly tells her that he will pitch a fit if she smudges his masterpiece.

She seems sad, but not on-the-verge-of-tears sad. "I think I'm kind of done with crying. I thought it might . . . change something somehow . . . to cry. I try not to show much emotion, but I thought if I could change myself a bit, I could change everything else. It didn't really do anything except make me look like an idiot."

I give her an sympathetic look, hoping to convey my apology for her sadness. She seems to get the message. "Ivo, despite what you may say, I'm not really perceptive. I think you're just an open-book."

I chuckle. My wife has always told me the same thing. It's nice hearing it- even if it isn't Mahogany speaking the words. Ronny smiles. "I think that might be why I like you. You don't hide things or keep a thought to yourself. You always manage to convey them somehow."

I smile at her, though I'm sure if it should be classified as a good trait of mine. She seems to be praising it though, so I'm just going to go with it.

Ronny looks down. "I usually can't make myself show what I'm feeling. Like when my brother started to distance himself from me. I thought, to begin with, that he didn't want to be around me he because thought I was crazy or something. But I realized it was because he was feeling worthless, because Kallen could comfort me and he couldn't. I barely see him now, and I _wish_ I could go back and tell him that I _do_ need him. He might not be as important as Kallen is to me, and he might not be able to comfort me, but I don't feel _right _when he's not there."

I glance around the room, making sure know one else was in the room to listen. This is more information than Ronny has ever indulged me with, probably more information than the brother she's talking about ever got.

The stylist seems a little shocked too, though through what I'm sure is years of practice, keeps applying eyeshadow.

"It feels wrong that I'm probably never going to be called 'Aunt Ronny' by the baby he's about to have." Ronny looks at the ground, but when she looks back up, she's smiling proudly. "It's a little girl, my mom told me. I'm so proud of him. He's has a family and he's a _doctor_."

She smiles wanly. "I don't know how I'll do it, but if Kallen did . . . leave me . . . I could possibly get through it. I wouldn't ever be the same without him, but I think I could go on."

She stops speaking, giving me an expectant look. I smile brightly, wishing I believed she could be okay without Kallen. From what I've seen and the utter love I hear in her voice when she speaks of him, she won't be.

I really hope she's right, though, Ronny is a wonderful person and I wouldn't want grief to change her.

It will be a good thing, if she starts telling people what she feels. It can only make her better, but I'm worried that without Kallen she can't make those life changes she desperately needs to.

When she's not looking I stare at her worriedly. I don't want her to know that I'm sure she can do it. So when she looks back up again, I give her a brilliant smile. Her face lights up with the possibilities of all she could accomplish.

The stylist steps away, surveying his work. "That's about all I can do here, doll. You have gorgeous eyes, I wish you wouldn't ruin them with emotions and whatnot."

Ronny stares at the blue-skinned man for a second before bursting into laughter.

I can't help my grin. It's nice to see her smile, _really_ smile. I've spent the last few days accustomed to her bawling onto my shoulder. Maybe that's why she's more open with me.

I've seen her at her worst.

And to think, this relationship only came into being because of one of my episodes.

Funny how the world works.

* * *

_Blaise Calder (D10)_

Lilac gives me a look of wide-eyed surprise when I walk out of the bathroom in my tuxedo. She nods, a proud smile upon her face. It kind of reminds me of the way some mothers smile at their sons. At how my mother smiled at me when she was alive. "You look so handsome!"

I grin. "Thanks, Lilac. You look nice, too."

She smiles at me, moving forward to straighten my bow tie. "Is it impossible for a man to tie his own tie correctly?"

I glare weakly. "I could've done it myself!"

"Oh please," she groan. "You couldn't do this properly to save your life!"

I bite my bottom lip in frustration. For someone who has only known me for a short time, she sure cares about me a lot. And knows things that most others don't. "Everyone always did it for me so, no, I do not know how. I'm sure a master, such as yourself, could teach me the proper technique, though."

Lilac rolls her eyes at my sarcasm. "My mother taught me how. She used to joke that not knowing how ruined her first marriage."

My eyebrows lift. "That's not usually a thing to joke about."

Lilac looks down. "It's better than saying the truth. My parents grew to hate each other very quickly."

I gulp. It was unusual for Lilac to talk about her life at home. She, for the most part, wants to know all about my life instead. Though a deep curiosity is there, I happily oblige. Lilac has a bitter look on her face, something I'm not accustomed to seeing. "I kind of wish my problem was caused by heredity. At least then I wouldn't have had to feel like I was fighting for my mother's affection. And losing."

"Y-Your problem?" I squeak.

"I think it's time you know about that," she says, looking down.

So this is it. She's going to tell me what's gotten her down so much lately. "As most people do, I received an injury in my Games. The problem is . . . the injury . . . I'm unable to have children."

I stare at her in absolute shock. Lilac . . . can't have children? But she would be such a wonderful mother. It hurts me to know there are such horrible people who have the ability to have a child and end up hurting it, but there's Lilac, the sweetest, most motherly person I knew who . . . can't.

"I'm . . . so sorry." I look down. "I can't believe I bugged you so much about telling me. I'm sorry."

She gives me a slight smile and lifts my face up so my eyes will meet hers, with a finger. "It's fine, Blaise. I should've told you sooner. It wasn't right for me to keep you in the dark so long."

I shake my head. "That was your choice, Lilac."

"I don't know what to say," she admits. "Once someone knows, I feel like they view me differently. Like they . . . _pity_ me. I don't want to be pitied."

"So there's no hope, whatsoever, for you having a child?" I ask quietly.

"None," she whispers. It's the first time I hear the intense pain come out in her voice.

And I hate it.

"Is that why you and Valor aren't married?" I venture. It seems to fit perfectly with the image I have of Lilac. A selfless woman who will do anything to give the people she loves what she thinks they deserve.

She nods. "I don't want to give him someone broken. I know I'm emotionally scarred, but when I'm around him, it doesn't feel that way. Being around him can't change my injury, though. I can't give him what any other woman can. It hurts to know that."

I nod slowly. "What does your family think?"

"My dad and stepmother don't care much. My mom and stepfather are heartbroken. April laughed, Brent freaked out. Kalina bawled, Marigold hugged me. Valor . . . was _devastated_."

I reach out, covering Lilac's hand with my own. "But he still wants to be with you?"

"He wants to marry me, actually, but I can't let him miss out on being a father. He'd be a wonderful dad."

I look down. "You would have been a wonderful mother too, Lilac."

She cries then, sobs shaking her chest. "I was looking so forward to it."

I envelope her into a hug. "I know, I know. We'll find a-."

It hit me, how simple the solution was. It's perfect in a way that never happens in my regular life. I wonder for a moment if fate has driven us together, just for this purpose.

I pull back and Lilac looks up at me expectantly, wiping tears from her eyes.

I smile brightly. "Lilac, you're going to be a mom."

* * *

_Damon Marx (D9)_

I rub my eyes, still tired from my lack of sleep last night.

For most of it, I was at the year's recap video and presentation of the Victor's Crown by the President. I had been unable to sleep the rest of the night.

I didn't see my tributes on the screen for very long, but it was enough to haunt me.

I wasn't looking forward to tonight's events; the final interview. It would be _even_ more extravagant. Last night had been unusually quiet. Not many words had been spoken between the host and Laurel.

Hell, not much emotion had been shown.

Laurel had kept her eyes closed for most of the video and when she did open them, she looked stonily off into the distance. Cassius tried his best to get a few words out of her throughout, but she ignored him.

Despite her utter lack of kindness a few night ago at the party, Laurel seems nice enough. I feel bad for her, sure, but I haven't approached her since I helped her back to her room.

I can tell she remembers that night, but Laurel hasn't come to apologize or thank me for taking it upon myself to return her safely.

It doesn't bother me, but I can tell she's not any better off than she was that night. Last night she looked . . . sort of hopeless, yet mixed with burning anger and grief.

Not the best combination.

Aurora has been avoiding her from what I can tell. I don't think it's a good idea on Aurora's part, but I try not to judge.

Someone taps on my shoulder and I turn to see Quinn in a light pink dress. She grins up at me. "Hey there."

I roll my eyes. "Hi."

"It seems like it's been a while," Quinn muses. "I haven't seen you since the night of the party."

I look down. If she thinks it has been a while after a few days, I can't imagine her reaction when we haven't seen each other for six months. "Yeah, it's been pretty busy around here."

Quinn nods. "Of course. I've been trying to help Laurel out with . . . everything."

"She actually talks to you?" I ask incredulously, raising my eyebrows in surprise.

She chuckles. "She doesn't really talk. More just looks at me like I'm an idiot for trying to cheer her up. It's kind of frustrating."

"You're trying to cheer her up?" I ask, with a disbelieving laugh. "How does one do that?"

Quinn looks down. "Well, at the moment it's trying to get some information out of her. Who's she is friends with, what she likes to do. Once I've got all that, I thought it might be easier to hold a conversation."

"But no luck?"

She shrugs. "All I've gotten is that she's friends with Locust."

"District Eleven Victor Locust?"

"Yeah, that one." Quinn rolls her eyes, continuing on sarcastically, "She has only good things to say about him."

I let out a laugh. "No surprise there."

"She's not that bad to be around, surprisingly." Quinn smiles. "She's much nicer than Dara."

"That's not saying much," I comment. "Everyone is nicer than Dara."

Quinn's lips press into a thin line. "That's true."

Quinn does this every time Dara is mentioned, even if she's the one who mentioned her. She gets this angry look and then makes up an excuse to leave.

Quinn isn't a very good liar.

"Do you want to hit the buffet table?" I ask, a slight smile forming on my face. "They have bacon."

She pauses for a moment. "No . . . I should go."

I grab her arm gently. "C'mon, Quinn, it'll be fun."

She bites her lip, and then hesitantly smiles. "Fine, I'm coming. But only because of the bacon."

I grin at her and walk away. She has to jog to catch up, but she smiles anyway. I muse aloud, "I wonder why they serve bacon after breakfast . . ."

"Bacon is not a thing to be confined to one meal," she says, completely serious. "It is a masterpiece and should be treated as such."

I bite my lip to keep from laughing. Quinn's adoration of bacon was is of her little quirks that I can't help but find hilarious.

I look at her. "I'll miss you."

She stops suddenly. I have to turn back and walk a few steps to stand beside her. She stares at the ground. She blinks a few times. "I think I love you."

I do a double take at her words. "W-What?"

She doesn't repeat herself.

I'm not horrified, it's shocking in a . . . good way.

I move closer to her, but she steps away.

I stare at her in confusion as she takes in a few calming breaths. "Which is why I can't be friends with you. I might be miserable, but it's better than Hope being heartbroken. I . . . I hope you have a good life with her, Damon."

She turns and runs off as I stare after her.

She's gone.

I'm not going to talk to her for six months, and she has it in her head to ignore me for the rest of time, I'm guessing.

She says she loves me. But she's letting me go for Hope's sake? Just another girl that she's never met.

Quinn _has_ always been on the selfless side.

I walk back toward my room, suddenly losing my appetite.

Maybe it's for the best.

I might love her too- I'm still not completely sure- but I want her to have someone who's good enough for her.

I know for a fact I'm not.

* * *

_Hazel Birchbark (D7)_

I try to smile when Clubb kisses me. I don't understand it. I'm not in a bad mood and he's not being an asshole, so I shouldn't have a problem smiling at him. Should I?

He _does_ make me happy . . . somewhat. And I want this to work _so_ much. I don't want to go back home and face _him_ without knowing I have someone too.

I do care about Clubb, I wasn't lying in the park. I'm just not sure what kind of caring it is. Is it romantic feelings . . . or is friendship what I want?

I force the thoughts from my head. I should be happy right now. And I'm going to be happy, I'm just having doubts. It's perfectly normal.

Clubb gives me a wary look. "What's wrong?"

I try to roll my eyes in that carefree fashion I used to be able to pull off perfectly. By the narrowing of his eyes, it doesn't look real. "You worry too much, Clubbers."

"I worry for good reasons," he counters. "And I'm not _worrying_. I just think something is wrong and I'd rather you tell me now than later."

I touch his nose softly with my finger. "You're worrying, don't try to hide it. And _nothing_ is wrong."

"_Hazel_," he grimaces, grinding his teeth. "You're pissing me off."

"_Clubb_," I snap, frowning right back at him. "You're being an asshole."

He nudges me off of him, climbing out of the bed. "Let's go."

"Where?" I ask, sitting up quickly and brushing the hair out of my eyes.

He lets out an annoyed sound. "We're not going anywhere in particular. You ask far too many questions, Hazel."

He's pulling the same thing on me that I did to him.

Ass.

This is becoming tedious really fast. He's just too . . .

I need to leave or I'm going to say something I don't mean.

"Well, since we have no set plans," I begin coldly. "I'm going to go to my room and you can go wherever the hell your worrisome little heart desires."

He glares. "Fine. Go. See if I care."

"I'm sure you will," I reply patronizingly as I pass him. "Have a nice night."

"Hazel," he says softly. "If you'll stay . . ."

"What?" I bark out. "We'll 'work it out?'"

He laughs then and I rear back in surprise. "Who ever thought that I'd be the reasonable one in this relationship? It's so . . . unbelievable."

I'm not amused. "Hilarious."

He frowns at me. "There's no need to be so standoffish about everything."

"There's no reason to be so pushy," I grumble.

"There's no reason to be such a bitch," he snaps.

"You-!"

"You know what, I'm done with this." He sighs. "The fighting is ending _right now_."

"You can't just dictate when we fight!" I exclaim. "You are the most controlling, self-centered, _idiot_ I have ever met."

"Oh, _I'm_ an idiot?" he yells. "Who was it just a few days ago that was blubbering over another Victor getting married? That's more idiotic than anything I could _ever_ do."

It's like time slows down and I can only stare at him. He brought it up. The fucker brought up Birch- I flinch, it physically hurts to think his name. I look at the ground for another moment, until the anger fills me up.

"Don't you _ever_ bring that up again," I hiss. "_Don't_."

"Hazel-," he begins, looking apologetic.

"_No_." I glare at him. "I'm going, don't follow me. I don't want to talk to you again."

"Hazel, I'm sorry," he apologizes, but I don't care. I'm already out the door.

I can't really remember the walk back to my room or the hours after it, it's all a bit of a blood-red haze. I was murderously angry. I hate it when people bring up Birch in general, I hate it even more when they talk about me mourning over his impending marriage.

It takes me time, but I cool off. I think he said it in the heat of the moment, Clubb didn't _intentionally_ hurt me.

I stand up, planning on trying to talk it out with Clubb without getting into yet _another_ fight. I think we spend more time fighting than actually _talking_ to each other, at this point.

A soft knock comes at the door. I open it with a raised eyebrow.

It's Clubb. I guess we take about the same amount of time to calm down; I can't think of anyway we aren't similar.

He gives me a grim smile. "I can't do this anymore."

I roll my eyes. "Yeah. This stalking away when we're angry isn't helping."

Clubb's sigh makes me stop. "No, Hazel. I can't do _this_ anymore." He gestures between the two of us and I freeze.

Was the fight that bad that he wants to end us? We've had worse in the short amount of time we've been together.

I look at him, gulping. "Clubb . . ."

He stares at the ground. "I can't be with you when I know you love someone else. And I can't keep trying to delude myself into thinking you could eventually love someone like me. So it's done."

He turns around to leave, but I follow him closely. I grab his arm. "I don't understand."

He whips around, sending me stumbling, but grabs me before I can crash into the wall. His eyes are blazing. "Why can't you accept that you're in love with Birch? _Why_? Everyone around you knows it, most of all me. So just stop _pretending_."

He stalks away then, and I sigh before sinking to the ground. The hard part to swallow is that he ended things because he thinks I love Birch.

I let out a breathless laugh.

How absurd.


	44. Honesty

**The Mentors**

_**Chapter Forty-Four  
**_

_Dexter Kane (D3)_**  
**

I tap my fingers on the table impatiently and stare across the room. The crowd in the dining room is slowly dissipating, and I still haven't seen this mysterious visitor of mine who left a note on my door saying to meet them here.

I'll admit, I am curious.

I just know it won't be some crazed fan, because I don't have those.

I shrug to myself. Maybe it's a request to attend the Victory Tour festivities in the Capitol.

I roll my eyes at the thought. Not likely. Well unless they want me to bring the baby, which _will not_ be happening. I don't care what they say about the matter, the point is moot.

It _could_ be a messenger, of course, which is the most likely answer of all I can conjure up.

If this person doesn't hurry up, I won't ever know why they asked me to meet them. One of my bigger flaws is impatience. If you say you'll be somewhere, you need to be there on time. It's just common courtesy.

I look around the room once more and see a woman walk in.

I smile widely, happy to see her. I've known Dama for years, and she hasn't changed one bit since the moment I first met her. Dama looks around with a worried expression on her face, before her eyes meet mine. She pushes through the crowd until she's standing in front of me.

I stand and give her a hug, while she grins broadly at me. We both sit down and I stare at her in what I hope is well-concealed shock. I rarely ever see her, and always expect her to look different, but she never does.

Dama still hasn't conformed to the outlandish looks of the Capitol citizens, and I sometimes doubt she is one. Her skin is a natural tan, her hair only a few shades darker and running down her back in long waves. Her celery green eyes probe mine with confusion.

"Dexter?" Dama asks hurriedly. "Are you all right?"

I push the surprise to the back of my mind. "Oh, yes. Sorry."

She smiles warmly at me. "It's nice to finally see you again. Can you believe it's been five years? I've actually been on a leave of absence for the last two . . . It's been such a long time since I've seen a Victor."

"I'm so happy I could be your first Victor back," I respond dryly. "Since I'm such a star."

She grins. "I think it's better to see a not well-known Victor. It's still special, but it's easier to get some time with them."

I nod.

Dama always talks my ear off even before she gets to the point. It's always better to just cut to the chase with her. "So? Why did you want to meet with me?"

She smiles softly. "I have a message. From your wife."

"Di?" I ask excitedly. I haven't heard from her in days. "What did she say?"

Dama grins at me. "Your child was on its way when the message was sent. Your baby is probably already born. Isn't it exciting?"

I stare at the woman, dumbfounded.

I missed it.

Damn it, what haven't I missed? "Oh. _Oh_."

Her face falls. "You're not . . . excited?"

I can't speak. It is a mixture of shock and a fierce longing to be home with my baby and wife that keeps me from it. After a few moments, I clear my throat loudly. "I _am_ excited. I just wish I could have been here."

Dama lets out a sigh of relief. "Oh. Of course."

I smile at her. She's always been a bit more sympathetic towards Victors and district citizens. One of the few. "What was your leave of absence for? Anything interesting?"

She grins, and looks down shyly. "I got married and had a baby."

For another time today, I can't speak.

It's a _pleasant_ surprise, though. "You had a baby. I can't . . . _believe_ it."

"I couldn't either," she replies with a small laugh. "Well, if I'm to be honest, it was not a planned one. My relationship with my husband was more of a . . . one-time thing that turned into a lifetime together. Sounds fun, huh?"

I pause for a moment to let the information sink in. From what I get from her words, she had a one-night stand, which turned into a pregnancy, which turned into a marriage.

"So should I be congratulating you..?" I begin. "Or not?"

She deliberates for a moment. "Marriage? No. Child? Yes."

"Okay then." I grin at her. "Girl or boy?"

"Boy," she answers with the proud smile of a loving mother.

"And his name?"

"Crispin," she replies. "He's such a cutie."

"Does he look like you or your husband?" I ask.

"He has all my husband's facial features," she says slowly. "Luckily, his mother was a supermodel so his features are perfect. But Crispin has my hair and eye color."

I quickly imagine the little boy, and he is perfect in my mind. I can't imagine Dama having an ugly child.

I give her a curious look. "So why'd you get married? I never thought that Capitol men are big on marrying girls they've gotten pregnant."

She smiles sadly. "He's a rare gentlemen. Despite other Capitol citizens swearing you're all heathens, you're better men than they are. Something you should be proud of, I guess."

"So you don't love him?" I ask hesitantly.

"Good relationships don't start with alcohol," she replies with a sad smile before saying goodbye and hurrying out of the room.

I wouldn't know, but I'm sure Dama is right.

* * *

_Garland "Garl" Riggs (D12)_

The phone rings in my room and I smile as I answer it. I always try to be cheerful when I can bring myself to be.

I pause a second before uttering the standard greeting.

"Garl!" Alma squeals. A grin is instantly upon my face, but I wince when I realize I will soon be going deaf in that ear. "How are you doing? Was this year hard on you? It seems like it would be."

I sigh. "It's just the usual."

"My poor baby," she coos. "You don't even know how much I've missed you. Darius and LR wanted me to send their love. I know Riley misses you, he just hasn't said anything."

I smile at the mention of my family. "How's LR?"

"She's doing well and the baby is fine too." Alma pauses for a few moments and continues on gravely, "Her and Case had a fight."

I sit down on my bed in surprise. "Are they . . . splitting up?

I don't think they would, that would destroy Case's image as an upstanding citizen.

No one divorces in District Twelve. If you realize you hate the person you're married to, you just hope they die in one of the many accidents. It's sad that's what it comes to, but that's the way it has always been.

"Oh no!" she exclaims and I can hear the grin in her voice. "LR just showed up in the middle of the night and explained that they had a fight. She decided to stay the rest of the night with me. She went back home in the morning and they worked it out."

"Then why did you scare me like that?" I ask, breathless.

"Oh, Garl, you know how I love a good joke," Alma says with a good natured laugh. I smile. My wife's sense of humor is one of the qualities that I love about her. "Are you mad at me?"

"Of course not," I reassure her. "I love you."

I can just imagine her trying not to soften, but doing so anyway. "I love you too, Garl. But be honest, it hasn't been worse this year?"

"Honestly . . ." I begin, "I thought those kids had a chance."

I hear her sniff. "Oh Garl, you know you shouldn't-."

"Delude myself?" I finish. "Yes, I know I shouldn't. It doesn't stop me from hoping, though."

"One day," Alma says, shocking me with the conviction in her voice. "You _will_ bring someone home."

"You really think so?" I ask with a sad sigh.

"There might not be a lot, but there are some strong people in Twelve, yourself included," she says. "Logic states that there will be _at least_ one in the next twenty years."

"I just want to live to see it," I say suddenly, surprising myself.

"You will," Alma says. "I'm sure of it."

We are quiet for a few minutes. It is a comfortable silence, as one grows to be after being married for over twenty years. I can hear the tentative smile in her voice when she asks, "So have you had a chance to meet Laurel yet?"

I recall the uncomfortable first meeting and shake my head. "She's something, that's for sure."

"A good something or a bad something?" she questions.

"I'm not sure." I've come to learn that first impressions are rarely right, so I haven't made my judgment of her yet. Well . . . I have, but I'm not going to act on it. "She could go either way, I guess."

Alma makes an amused noise in the back of her throat. "You don't sound very optimistic."

"Meeting her was . . . less than pleasant," I say, trying to keep my wife from thinking the worst of the girl.

"Did she insult you?"

"No," I answer, squirming.

"Then what is it that makes you think she's a bad something?"

I shrug helplessly. "There's just something . . . I dunno . . . _off_, about her."

"_Garland Riggs_," I hear the disbelief and anger in her voice. I prepare for a lecture. "This girl just lost someone she loved and had to kill people. You need to show a little respect."

I think about what she has said and realize that she's right.

I'm being a judgmental asshole, aren't I?

I think we all are.

I don't know what it was about this year, but it seems like it was hard on everyone. "You're right. I'm being an idiot."

"Of course I'm right," Alma says, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. I roll my eyes at her tone. "Things will get better, Garl. You just have to let it happen on its own time. Trust me on this."

I chuckle. "How are you so patient?"

"I have dealt with you and our three children for the last twenty years," she says sarcastically. "I _deserve_ patience for all that I've been through."

I laugh. "Hey! I'm not so bad!"

"Garl, if you and Riley have anything in common it's that you're both stubborn," she says with a small laugh. "And LR also has that trait in spades. So, yes, I have patience by the boatload."

I laugh once more and look at my watch. I curse under my breath. "Honey, I have to let you go. I'm late for the Final Interview. I love you and I'll see you when I get home."

She laughs. "I love you too. Don't do anything stupid."

I promise her that I won't. Instead of feeling optimistic like I expected to when the phone call ended, I feel only a dull sense of dread for the rest of tonight. I tighten my tie and grab my jacket before leaving my room for what I wish is the last time.

Maybe next year I can be slightly more excited to go to the Final Interview because one of my tributes have won.

Not likely, of course, but Alma thinks it could happen so there's a chance.

* * *

_Aurora Fairchild (D11)_

I have a front row seat to tonight's "wonderful festivities" just as I had last night. It was a mind numbing experience, watching the recap video. Unlike Laurel, who had her eyes closed the whole time, I could only watch in mute horror.

I think it will be less difficult for me tonight, and much more for her.

It isn't a pleasant thought.

I worry for Laurel, not to mention care for her. That much is evident with how much I've been thinking about her in the last few days.

I watch in disgust as the interviewer steps on the stage. A loud round of applause overcomes the crowd and I join in half-heartedly. No one gives me a second glance.

Of course not.

I'm just the scarred, unmemorable Victor from District Eleven.

The interviewer- Cassius O'Donnell, if I remember correctly- gets right down to business, hyping up everyone out there that might be watching. I try to let myself get caught up in the excitement, but having experienced the Hunger Games personally, it's impossible.

"And _now_, let me introduce you to the Victor of the 30th Hunger Games!" Cassius exclaims with a charming, blue-lipped smile. "Laurel Farley of District Eleven, everyone!"

Laurel steps onto the stage. She looks beautiful, but that isn't surprising. She almost always does.

Laurel doesn't spend much time on her appearance by Capitol standards, but for a District Eleven girl she's an expert.

Laurel is one of the few that can even afford makeup, much less know how to apply it. You can barely tell she has any on, of course, but it puts her leaps and bounds above other girls in our large district.

Boys love her from what Locust has told me about his favorite- Locust hasn't actually described her as this, but I know she is- person. Unfortunately for the boys, she has no patience for stupid little games teenagers like to play.

Even though Laurel looks beautiful tonight, her look more bold than usual, she doesn't strut out with the confidence a beautiful Victor is supposed to have in the Capitol's eyes.

Hell, she looks defeated.

She sits down, crossing her legs, something her mother most have taught her when she was younger.

She glances up at the crowd and plasters an unbelievably fake grin on her face. I can only stare on in amazement when the crowd laps it up, thinking she's actually happy to be there.

Cassius smiles at her before asking a few precursory questions. She answers them with toneless one-word answers.

Laurel switches her feelings on things so suddenly sometimes. She goes from trying to excite the crowd with broad grins, to boring them.

Cassius gives her a well-disguised glare before asking about feelings.

The first question isn't simple: What she felt when she killed Magnificent. Laurel grinds her teeth and does her best to answer the question with one sentence.

It goes on for at least half an hour like this. I fear that it might be the most unfortunate Final Interview ever. In what I think is the last ten minutes of the program, he starts in about Zale.

Cassius asks Laurel when she knew that she loved Zale. She replies that there wasn't a specific moment, she just knew. Laurel smiles slightly, like she is remembering the feeling. Cassius smiles indulgently, realizing that perhaps it was the best thing he did all night, bringing up Zale.

I can barely hold back my snort of disgust at this. He asks her many questions, her answers are suddenly without emotion, clinical. His smile falters. I know what he is wondering, but I don't expect him to ask it.

In that regard though, dear Cassius shows himself to be above and beyond my first impression. He stares at Laurel stonily. "Laurel, you don't seem to be showing much emotion. It makes me wonder . . . Did you ever love Zale at all?"

Laurel stares at him, and in her eyes, I see everything. Every little feeling she had toward Zale. I can see that it was real. She might not have been _in_ love with him, but Laurel loved him in her own, inexperienced way.

And I see the pure murderous anger overtake her features. She stands up and isn't looking at Cassius when she says it. Laurel looks at everyone in the audience, every Capitol citizen.

"Fuck you," she whispers. I know the cameras catch the words. But soon, there is no doubt that everyone viewing knows what Laurel feels, as she's screaming at the cameras in an unhinged way, she seems to have perfected in the last few days.

In that moment, I am both awed and worried by her.

Finally, after her tirade is over, she stalks off the stage and leaves everyone in silence behind her. After a few seconds, I hear the murmurs of conversation start up again.

They are whispering about her, wondering if she's crazy or if she was just making a scene for the attention of it.

Cassius clears his throat. "Well folks. That's a wrap. I'm your host, Cassius, and this is a Capitol production."

The cameras' light blinks off and the crowd politely claps, but I know they're all wondering the reasons behind her rant. And some are wondering if what Laurel said about them is true. Cassius, on the other hand, only worries about a touch-up, yelling at his crew.

I get up and run through the crowd, pushing everyone out of my way as I go. I have to find Laurel, I have to help her through this somehow.

I find her in the Floor Eleven hallway, staring blankly at the wall.

I slide down beside her. She gives me a small smile. "I was a little angry there for a second, here though . . . The memories just make me forget it all. He made me so happy, Aurora. I miss him so much." Laurels begins to cry, and I let her hug me, staining my dress with her tears.

It's the least I can do for the girl, whose life is only going to get worse from here.


	45. Home

**The Mentors_  
_**

**_Chapter Forty-Five  
_**

_**Home**  
_

_Ivo Wright (D1)_

I am filled with nervous energy as the train comes to a halt. Ten more minutes and I see them. Just ten more minutes. Ten minutes is like a lifetime when you're waiting.

I have to sign a few papers and carry on a quick discussion with the conductor before I can step off the train.

When I finally step off the train, I look from left to right wildly, hoping to see the flaming red hair of my wife.

It's always this way when a Victor comes home. You never know if your family will be there at the train station. Some people don't even know they've made a life-altering mistake until they don't see their spouse's face.

I finally spot Mahogany with Finnea and Kylemore by her side. I can't help but run. It's like I've never seen anything better.

Rohan must have stayed home. I'll thank him later for that later. Though he's apart of my family, I just want to see these three right now.

"Daddy!" Finnea squeals as she runs to me. I scoop her up in my arms and spun her around.

She giggles wildly. I kiss her forehead before setting my daughter down on the ground. Kylemore comes next, less enthusiastic, but I'm just as happy to see him as my daughter.

"Hey Dad!" he exclaims and I hug him. He smiles up at me when I straighten.

I return the smile brightly before looking up at my wife. Her hair is down, blowing around her shoulders. Mahogany's smile is blindingly white and the love in her eyes is overwhelming.

I've never seen anything so beautiful.

I bring her in for a hug. I feel safe in that moment, safer than I have for a long time. I kiss her, trying to put everything I feel into that kiss. She responds enthusiastically.

When I pull away, Mahogany blushes, smiling anyway. "I've missed you so much, Ivo. I love you."

Kylemore gives us a disgusted look while Finnea runs circles around us singing, "_Mommy and Daddy sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G!_ _First comes love, and then comes marriage. Then comes me and Kyle in the baby carriage!"_

I can only laugh and wonder what I did to deserve this life.

* * *

_Clubb Paige (D2)_

Home sweet home.

Yeah fucking right.

I have no patience for cheesy bullshit at the moment. I'm too fed up with everything. The train's bumpy ride is making me sick; a splitting headache and a churning stomach, to be exact.

The train starts to slow and I can't force myself to be excited for home. The train comes to a full halt and I sign some stupid damn papers. The conductor tries to talk to me, but I brush him off.

I step off the train and breathe in the dry air. I look around and though I order myself not to, slump.

No Mom, no Dad, no Durian, no Core. No one came. And once again, I am alone.

I only pause for a few seconds before I continue walking. I will not show that being alone felt horrible, I will show no emotion.

I almost bump into a girl. I want to snarl at her, to tell her to get the fuck out of my way, but I recognize her.

Aurelia.

She smiles up at me tentatively. "Hey there, Clubb."

"Hi," I greet warily.

Aurelia stands on her toes to look over my shoulder. I know she's looking at an empty train station. She rocks back on her heels. "I see that no one else is here."

I grind my teeth together. "Thanks for noticing."

"I'm here," she points out.

"The only reason you're here is because you want something from me," I reply, narrowing my eyes. "Am I right?"

She raises an eyebrow at my tone, but nods.

I give her a sardonic smile. "All I'm good for, isn't it?"

"I don't know what to tell you," she says with a small frown. "I don't know you. But you told me you'd bring my brother home and you broke that promise. And that means I _still need_ your help."

I grimace.

She's right. We don't know each other, but I _did_ make a promise.

And from the lack of people I see ready to welcome me home, I need a _ton_ of good karma.

I look at her, trying to remember the reasons why I promised to help her in the first place. I remember her being strong, but also vulnerable. It was somehow endearing. "Fine. I'll help you. Be happy I'm nice!"

She snorts and then _gives me a fucking hug_.

I want to push her away but can't find the strength to.

I have to admit, it feels good to be needed.

* * *

_Dexter Kane (D3)_

I think I'm going to have an anyeurism from this intensely long wait as I sign my departure papers.

I can't think as I race to the platform. My parents are there, smiling at me. I feel disappointed as I take in the lack of Diana and our child. She must not have wanted to leave the baby at home, or I _know_ she would be here with open arms.

My mother envelops me in a hug and when she pulls back I see a flicker of pain. But it's quickly gone, and I disregard it as I turn to my father. "Where's Di and the baby?"

My father hesitates a second too long, and my mother cuts in with a disgruntled expression, "The _baby_ is at your house."

I smile.

Diana would never leave our child so early in its life.

I bite my lip. "Is it a girl or a boy?"

My father looks aggravated as my mother answers excitedly, "It's a little girl, Dex."

I feel excitement like I've never felt before.

I'm a father.

I have a daughter. "What did Di end up naming her?"

"Oh, she decided to wait for you to get home before picking a name," my mother answers cheerily, while my father makes a noise of protest in the back of his throat.

I finally look at him- _really_ look at him- and notice the grave expression and bags under his eyes.

I feel panic clench my heart. I study my mother, her dark hair is uncombed and her clothes mismatched. I berate myself for not noticing sooner that her smile is fake.

"What's wrong?" I ask hesitantly.

"Oh, it's nothing, dear, we're just a little-," my mother begins, her eyes tight from the nerves I can fully see now.

"Give it up," my father snaps. "He knows something is wrong."

"Mom? Dad?" I question, feeling as though I'm suffocating. "What's _wrong_?"

"Dex . . ." my mother says hesitantly. "I just wanted to . . ."

My mother has always been hesitant of telling bad news. My father believes in saying it quickly, like ripping off a bandage. He glares at my mother's floundering before quickly saying, "Diana died a few days ago. The baby was fine, but she had lost too much blood. I'm so sorry, Dexter."

I stare at him as a rush of noise fills my ears. My mother gives me a comforting hug, that I barely notice. I gently push her away. "I . . . I can't. I'm just going to go . . . home."

It feel wrong to call the house in Victor's Village home. With Diana . . . Can it ever be home to me again?

I can see my mother speaking, but can't make out the words. I walk around her and my vision blurs as I make my way to the house.

I vaguely recognize the door as my own house's. I turn the knob experimentally and find it unlocked.

I hear a baby's cries and they pierce my heart. That's my baby.

That is my little girl.

I hesitantly walk up the stairs and a woman comes out of the room with a bundle of blankets. The woman's green eyes widen in surprise. They're familiar yet foreign in a way that hurts me. "Dexter. It's nice to see you."

"Connie?" I whisper. "Is that..?"

"Your daughter," she answers. "She's so beautiful, Dexter."

"Can I . . . Can I see her?" I ask and Connie willingly holds out the bundle of blankets. As I take them from her, I'm holding the almost nonexistent weight of my daughter for the first time.

I look down to my daughter's face. Her eyes are slightly open and I can just make out brown.

She has brown eyes.

Like Diana.

I feel a sob wrack me and Connie's arms wrap around me. "It'll be okay, Dex. You'll be okay."

"Emmy won't ever have a mother," I whisper and Connie's arms tighten.

"Is Emmy a nickname?" she asks gently, trying to distract me from my grief.

"For Emerald," I tell her softly, pulling back to see her reaction. Her eyebrows are furrowed but her eyes water like she may cry.

She buries her face in my chest. "I'm so sorry for everything. I should've been here for you this whole time."

"What made you come?"

"I knew you would need someone," she whispers, smiling crookedly up at me through tears. "Why not me?"

* * *

_Dara Valentine (D4)_

I'm not overflowing with happiness as the train nears District Four. It's just home.

All that's different is that I'll be someone's fiancee when I get there.

I've been one since I left, but going back to District Four . . .

It makes it _real_.

I stare down at my left hand in horror. I don't have an engagement ring yet, but I'm sure Kai will have one for me at the station.

I feel a deep sense of _wrong_.

Do I even love Kai?

I shake my head. I'm just having . . . pre-marital jitters, or whatever the fuck they're called.

I feel the train slowly come to a stop and my heart does the same with it. I stand up, my knees popping. I bite my lip before signing the papers that one of the damn losers shove into my hands.

I flip the conductor off, and feel my feet hit the train station's floor.

Before I can even process what's going on, Kai is kissing me. I disentangle myself and he gives me a confused look. "What's wrong?"

"No 'Hello, Dara, how are you?'" I spit.

A hurt look settles on his face. "I'm sorry. What's wrong?"

The sad look on his face pierces me, causing me to regret my bad mood. "I'm sorry, I just . . . I feel bad. Trains always get to me."

It's a small lie, one that I don't feel bad about.

Wait a second.

When have I _ever_ felt bad about a lie? Of course I wouldn't feel bad about it.

Shit Kai is looking at me expectantly.

Act fucking natural Dara. "What?"

He sighs and repeats himself. "Would you like to see your ring?"

"I . . . um . . . sure."

His smile widens into a grin. He pulls out the ring, and I have to admit, I'm disappointed. The diamond is very small almost . . . nonexistent. Maybe I can get him to return that one and get my own from the Capitol.

Promising.

* * *

_Ronny Pied (D5)_

I don't think it's possible to be this nervous. Is it?

I pace back and forth, losing my balance at least ten times when the train lurches. I glance at my fingernails, bitten to the nub with blood seeping from one of them.

I grab a towel and wipe it away hastily.

I'm a fucking mess. I know it's the worry keeping me like this. I hope that it will be better after I know, even if he doesn't stay. "It will be _fine_, Ronny. F-I-N-E."

The train comes to a slow stop and I take a deep breath. I sign the prerequisite papers and have a tense conversation with the conductor before stepping off the train.

I do not look around wildly.

I do not run to him when I finally catch a glimpse.

I walk slowly over to him with an air of resignation. That is it. The life I have always envisioned with Kallen can be saved or broken in this moment. And I'm scared.

Terrified.

Kallen's face is grim, his eyes red-rimmed. "It's . . . It's nice to see you, Ronny."

"Kallen," I whisper. I'm somehow able to keep myself from breaking down in his presence. "H-How are you?"

"Not very good." He doesn't ask me how I'm doing.

How can he not _ask_? _I'm_ the one that lost a fucking baby!

In that moment, I want to punch him. I hold my hands by my side, in fists.

"I see." I look down. "So. What are you going to do?"

"Ronny," he says gently. "I want to try, okay? I do. But I don't know if I can spend time with you right now."

"You don't know if _you_ can spend time with _me_?" I feel the anger rise once more. "I'm the one that lost a baby."

"Ronny-."

"_No_!" I glare. "You're going to come home and stay in one of the guest rooms and we are going to work through this! Understand?"

"Ronny-."

"Don't you dare," I hiss. "So help me, Kallen, I-."

"Okay," he says. "You're right."

"Y-You will?"

He nods and I feel a surge of happiness overtake my anger. I know it's not going to be easy, but since we both agree that we can do this, I have to believe we'll make it through.

Together.

* * *

_Lilac Parrish (D6)_

I've been repeating the words in my mind so much that they've lost all meaning.

_Thank you Blaise. Thank you Blaise. Thank you Blaise._

It's true, though.

I would like to think I've done as much for Blaise as he has for me, but I know I'm wrong. Nothing can compare to this, it will take a thousand lifetimes to pay him back.

Turning someone's life around with only a few words can't be repaid.

Isn't it crazy how fast things can change? One second is all it takes. It took Blaise seven days to change my life for the better.

I still can't believe it's happening.

The train shudders to a stop, and I take a deep breath to calm myself. Valor will be there, waiting. And, really, if I'm being honest, that's all I've need all along.

I don't know if the epiphany happened _because _I knew what is to come, or if it was there all along.

I sign a few papers that I can't even make myself read first and tell the conductor goodbye cheerfully.

I step off the train.

Valor is all I can see. It's like I have tunnel-vision. Everything else is a blur.

Before I know it, he's right there in front of me, looking down at me. He smiles and I grin.

We kiss.

"I've missed you," he whispers, pulling me in for a hug.

I breath in his scent. "Me too."

He pulls back to look at me. "Anything interesting happen?"

I laugh. "You wouldn't believe it."

"Try me," he replies with a smirk.

I tell him all about my week. I finish long after the train has pulled away from the station. The sun is setting and I feel like everything is, for once, perfect. "Blaise has foster kids."

He raises an eyebrow. "What's that?"

I explain the concept to him, and his eyes widen in disbelief. "Do you mean..?"

I feel a happy sob catch in my throat. "Yes. We're going to be parents after all."

* * *

_Hazel Birchbark (D7)_

I haven't been in the best mood since Clubb abruptly called things off, but it's not the worst pain I've been through before. Definitely not.

I _miss_ Clubb. I haven't known him for long, but he's important to me. I wish I could talk to him, to assure him that I have no feelings whatsoever toward Birch.

The only reason I was so shaken up by Birch's announcement, was pure shock. I was just thrown off.

I didn't even _know_ Birch was seeing someone and then, _wham_, he's engaged.

Sure, I'm a _little_ bit protective of him, but aren't all best friends? I kind of want to smack the girl even though I've never met her but that's just my nature.

I want to hit _everyone_ sometimes.

Sure, I complain about him. I don't usually acknowledge him as my best friend aloud. I'm not even nice to him, for the most part.

But one of my worst nightmares is him leaving me.

It's only natural.

My parents _did _die.

These thoughts are pushed from my mind by an important matter.

The train is slowing down. The slower it gets, the faster my heart beats.

So much for not freaking out today.

I sign papers and force myself through a conversation with the conductor. I sigh in relief when he finally lets me leave. I bite my lip in a fit of nervousness when I step off the train.

What if he's not there..?

I see him, lounging on a bench like the lazy asshole I know him to be. He looks up at the sound of my footsteps and his eyes meet mine. He grins at me brightly.

I stop.

Because in this moment, I _know_.

I'm in love with Birch. Hopelessly in love with him as evidenced by my behavior this week. His smile fades and he raises an eyebrow at me. I close my mouth, apparently I've just been gaping at him for the last few seconds.

Probably not the most attractive look.

I'm in love with Birch. Who is engaged. The thought hits me hard.

I don't have much of a chance to begin with, but now . . . it seems impossible. I try not to show the conflict in my eyes, but I see the concern in his.

My heart sorta flutters.

If this is going to happen every time he looks at me now, I'm a fucking goner.

He stands, pulling me into a warm hug.

I feel safe in this moment, more than I ever do. He makes me feel safe in a world that is strictly _unsafe_. We pull away from each other, and I can feel my cheeks burn.

Damn it.

We both sit on the bench and I smile at him. "So? How's my tree?"

He laughs. "Perfect. I've been keeping my eye on those squirrels, but they're very persistent."

I roll my eyes, but I falter. The silence stretches and it's unusually tense. "So you're getting married?"

He smiles. "Yes."

"Do you . . ." I trail off and swallow, trying to battle through my roaring emotions. "Do you love her, Birch?"

"I- Yeah." My head shoots up.

He hesitated.

Why would someone hesitate to say that they love their fiancee?

My mouth goes dry.

Because he doesn't love her, whoever she is.

"I don't really know how to say this," I begin. Am I really going to do this? Seriously Hazel? "But I've literally just realized that I'm in love with you."

He stares at me and I wonder if he heard me. So I repeat, "Birch, I love you."

He runs a hand through his hair. "Hazel . . . I . . ."

My eyes widen. I was wrong. He does love her. I try to stifle my embarrassment. "I- I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me."

"You love me." He laughs bitterly, ignoring my words. "Wow. And you choose _now_ to find this out."

"What do you mean?" I ask hesitantly.

"I just asked someone to marry me," he growls.

"Yes..?"

"And the only reason I ever dated her was to get over you," he spits. "Do you know how long I've been waiting for you? A long damn time, Hazel. And, now, when everything is just starting to be all right again, you do _this_."

I can't speak. He wants to be with me for a long time..?

Yet he's angry.

"I'm not going to hurt her and turn everything upside-down again."

"What does . . . What do you mean, exactly?" I whisper.

"I was done waiting a long time ago."

* * *

_Quinn McKinney (D8)_

I bite my lip in agitation. "Stupid."

Since I've left the Capitol, I've been in a perpetual bad mood. I can't admit it to anyone aloud, but I know it's because of Damon.

I again feel furious with myself. Why do I always have to do the right thing? Why do I put other people's happiness above my own? I'fe never met Hope, but all I can see when I think of her is Linsey.

My best friend.

Linsey, who will be heartbroken when she fins out her boyfriend kissed me. Linsey, who won't be able to fathom why, much less know what to do. Linsey, who will cry herself to sleep at night.

It's wrong. So fucking wrong.

I've possibly ruined two people's happiness in one week. How can I do something like that?

The train rolls to a stop and I let a lone tear roll down my face before wiping it away. I command myself to calm down.

The paperwork is simple, the talk with the conductor rushed.

My parents are there, so were my siblings; Jaspe, Paisley, and Garrison.

My mother comes forward to hug me. She leans back to look at me after a few seconds and lets out a laugh. "Your hair looks worse than I have ever seen it before."

I roll my eyes at her and greet the rest of my family. My father ruffles my hair, probably making it look worse than it did before. He laughs when I glare at him. Paisley fills me in on some gossip that I've missed, though I don't particularly care. Jaspe pats my back, looking away stonily. He's never been the emotional type.

Garrison regales me with- what he thinks are- hilarious tales of his week, and I obligingly laugh. They seem to have missed me.

My father lets out a laugh. "Oh, look, it's the golden couple of District Eight!"

Finch _and_ Linsey. The blood drains from my face.

Oh goody.

* * *

_Damon Marx (D9)_

I don't know how I feel about this whole situation. Guilt is there, of course, I'm not a monster. I _do _care about Hope, I _do _love her.

I just don't know if it's enough. Just because you're utterly in love with someone doesn't mean you're going to spend the rest of your life with them. Relationships don't work like that.

Even if I do stay with Hope, what does it matter if we're not the right people for each other? We'll eventually call it quits anyway, so what is the point of prolonging the inevitable?

But what will I do if _Quinn_ and I are meant to be together? What will I say to Hope if I realize Quinn is perfect for me? What if I'm prolonging the inevitable by not being with _Quinn_?

I shake my head.

Life isn't about everything being decided for you. It's not about people being "meant" for you like a higher power decided you must be with them before your life even started. Life is making your _own_ choices, and living with the consequences. I _chose_ to let it be known to Quinn that I had feelings her. I _chose_ to pursue a relationship with her.

I chose all of this.

But what if I chose _wrong_?

What am I going to do if this whole thing ruins every other week of my life? I don't know if Hope will be forgiving of this. She's a forgiving person, in general, but is this too much, even for her?

What if she _leave_ me?

Maybe I shouldn't even tell her.

* * *

_Blaise Calder (D10)_

I miss Lilac.

She's like a friend and mother to me and it literally hurts to be away from her. It's like I scraped my knee and that stinging pain is going to be there until I tend to it.

I decided somewhere along the line with Lilac that she will be taking Shepherd, Rutherford, and Bubona. We've only been Shepherd and Rutherford's foster parents for a few months, so it doesn't hurt me to give the children to her. They're brothers and need to stay together,anyway.

Bubona, though . . . I've had her since she was a baby. It will be so different without her.

I don't know how Nova will react to giving up Bubona, she could refuse, to be honest. I don't know if she sees herself as Bubona's mother or not. I see Bubona as my baby sometimes, but I'm . . . I'm not her father.

I don't have a stable life. I still have to figure out the marriage, the housing arrangements, everything else . . . I want Bubona to stay, but it isn't what's best for her.

She'll be happy with Lilac and Valor. They'll give her much more attention and love than I ever could.

And you don't have to be with someone to love them. It's about doing what's best for them, no matter what, even if that means letting them go.

The train comes to a complete stop and I jump up. The train station will be much more crowded than usual this year.

My whole family.

In one place.

Joy and rapture.

I tell the conductor about my stay at the Capitol, she seems to be happy that I had such a wonderful trip. I laugh silently to myself.

I used to think the only life-changing things that happen in the Capitol occur to the tributes. Well, unless you count a new haircut as "life changing."

And now I've had one, so I can't make any more jokes.

I sign a contract saying I have gotten off the train safely and no harm was done to me and blahbity, blah.

I step off the train onto the hard concrete of the station, anticipation mixed with worry making me shake.

They're all okay, aren't they? Where _are_ they? They should _be_ there.

I slump with relief when I see them- all of them- running towards the station. I chuckle, Nova and Gran must be having a hard time wrangling in the kids.

Nova sees me first, her eyes lighting up with excitement and what I can only hope is all-emcompassing love. She stays with the kids, though, forever thinking of them first.

I grin and bite my lip at the sight of her.

She's beautiful.

* * *

_Aurora Fairchild (D11)_

Laurel stares blankly out the window and I glance at her periodically. It's been hours and she's done nothing but that. Sit and stare out the window, like the view is the most interesting thing in the damn world.

I don't like Laurel like this.

Laurel isn't shy, and she's definitely not not quiet. She's funny, she's sarcastic, she speaks her mind about, well, _everything_.

This isn't the Laurel I knew. I've only known her a week, but I know Locust will agree with me if I ask. This isn't fucking right.

Laurel turns to me and I almost hugged her in that moment. She glares viciously at me, though, dashing my hopes. "Can you stop staring at me? I don't like being treated like a fucking freak."

"Laurel-."

She cuts me off with a hand. "I don't need your worry- your _pity_."

"You're being ridiculous," I sputter. Why do I always end up saying the wrong thing, doing the wrong thing? Will I ever be able to comfort someone without putting my foot in my mouth? Laurel shakes her head, before turning her gaze back to the scenery racing past in the window.

After another hour of silence, the train comes to a slow stop. I stand up and after a second, Laurel follows suit. She doesn't look at me, much less say anything. She just signs the paper the conductor gives her and glares off into the distance while I talk to the old man.

I sign my name under Laurel's and smile at the conductor one more time before ushering Laurel off the train.

Right when we step off into the station, my eyes zero in on Locust. He smiles, and for a second I think it's for me, but I realize quickly it's for her. I look at Laurel, and she's actually smiling. It's shaky, and I think she might cry, but she _is _smiling at him.

Laurel moves suddenly, walking briskly toward him. She throws herself into his arms, and he strokes her head as she cries.

I purse my lips and look around for anyone else.

No one is there. The Capitol has written Laurel off as crazy since her outburst at the Final Interview and people in District Eleven don't come to greet their new Victors. They think it's more proper to let them be welcomed home by their families than screaming crowds.

Speaking of family, where are Rubi and Jay? I walk up to Laurel and Locust. He glares at me and I raise my eyebrows at his hostile expression, before asking, "Where are her parents?"

His face pales. Laurel pulls back to look around, finally realizing they aren't there. "W-Where are they, Locust?"

Locust's eyes dart around the station, looking anywhere but into Laurel's eyes. "I . . ."

"Don't lie to me," Laurel whispers, the tears drying up quickly. "Don't you _dare_ lie to me, Locust."

"They're-." Locust looks away. "I'm so sorry, Laurel, please understand-."

"Tell me what happened," she whispers.

Locust looks at the ground before composing himself, still not meeting her eyes. "There was a fire, Laurel, and they couldn't get out of the house."

Laurel stares at him for minutes before closing her eyes. "Say it."

Locust studies her expression for a moment, before saying the heart wrenching words, "They're dead, Laurel."

Laurel shakes her head but doesn't say a word.

Locust moves just as Laurel's knees give out from under her, making sure she doesn't hit the ground.

* * *

_Garland Riggs (D12)_

I can only smile as I step off the train, filled with happiness at the thought of my family all assembled in one place. All they need is me to come full circle. And I'm finally _here_. I can't explain how good it feels to be around them. And I know I'll never get used to being away from them.

I only see Alma and kiss her before asking the obvious question, "Where is everyone?"

"LR and I made dinner and we're going to throw you a homecoming party," Alma explains, pulling me along with her as we walk toward home. "And it's supposed to be a surprise, so please don't tell them I told you."

"You always were bad at keeping secrets," I reply fondly.

"And you were always bad at everything else," she teases. "I want to get back before the food gets cold."

"So how is everyone?" I question.

"I just told you yesterday!" she replies exasperatedly.

"You told me that they missed me," I reason. "Not how they are, other than LR."

"Fine," she groans. "Darius is fine, he's working on a normal schedule and Anna is doing well. Riley is in a bad mood because it's taking longer to 'charm' the baker's daughter than he's used to. And . . . that's about it. If you haven't noticed, our boys aren't that complex."

We're on the front steps of our home in what seems like seconds. She grins at me, whispering, "Remember to act surprised, all right?"

"I got it," I assure her, rolling my eyes.

We open the door and step inside.

"_SURPRISE_!"

* * *

**A/N:** **Thank you for sticking with this story, it _really_ means a lot to me. And a special thanks to every person that reviewed, they made writing a lot easier. **

**But it's not over yet, you guys. The sequel to this story is up on my profile, it's called Fighting to Forget.  
**


End file.
